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Elocutionary Reader 

and 

Graded Recitations 





- -, BY - - 

BYRON W. KING 

A. M., Ph. D. 

President School of Oratory 
Mt. Oliver, Pittsburgh, Pa. 



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ELOCUTIONARY READER 



AND 



GRADED RECITATIONS 




BYRON W. KING, A. M. Ph. D, 

PRESIDENT 

SCHOOL OF ORATORY 

MT. OLIVER 
PITTSBURGH, PA. 



Price 30 Cents 



COPYRIGHT 1914 



LDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOU! 
Franklin, Ohio 



®ht Sattmatb 



These Lessons embody Laws of Health-Culture and Ex- 
pression. They are plain, practical and scientific. They have 
been tried and retried and the results proclaim their truth. 
They will not strain or fatigue voice or body, but will give 
development, culture and control of physical and mental 
power. The first step toward Expression is Impression, then, 
reflection, emotion, clear conceptions; then, action, utterance 
and the power of speech. 

Here are poems that throb with life. They flow in rythmic 
melodies and are replete with living thoughts and glowing 
sentiments. They reveal the Art of beautiful Language, — the 
warp and woof of Intellect and Feeling woven into delicate 
compositions in the mysterious loom of the unsleeping soul. 
They are full of life, action and purpose and point to high 
ideals and strong endeavor. 

Poems are mosaic language where ideas, thoughts, figures 
of speech are cunningly set in fitting words that gleam and 
glow with color, life and beauty. 

Learn these poems, repeat them, recite them aloud again 
and again, and they will remain in your memory, and when 
you are old they will come to you in lonely hours, filling the 
haunted chambers of the soul with these old poets' rhymes. 

"Then read from the treasured volume 
The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice. 
And the night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares that infest the day 
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 
And as silently steal away." 
Sincerely, 

BYRON W. KING. 
School of Speech Arts, 
Mt. Oliver, Pittsburgh, Pa. 

DEC 19 1914 °*^ ' 

©CU391241 



LESSON NO. 1 
Science and Art of Expression 

TO BE EXPRESSED. 1. Thoughts. 2. Emotions. 3. 
Determinations or Will Energies. 

MEANS OF EXPRESSION. 1. Action or Gesture. 2. 
Voice and Yocality. 3. Words or Articulate Lan- 
guage. 

Repeat each of these three sentences several times. 

1. The sum of the three included angles of a triangle 
equals two right angles. 

2. 0, the long and dreary winter! 
0, the cold and cruel winter. 

3. / shall never permit it! Never, never tohile life 
shall last. Notice how the voice changes with the differ- 
ent sentences. 

No. 1. The voice is light and well forward to the 
tips of the teeth. You can speak it rapidly, for we 
think quickly. 

No. 2. The voice grows deeper and the words come 
more and more slowly. We feel slowly. 

No. 3. Clench the hands, stand firmly, hold the jaw 
firm. We express objective will power with our 
muscles. 

Phrasing and Grouping of Words. 

Pronounce these words : 

1. Impetuously; Indispensable ; Intensively; Un- 
timely; Kingdom; Unkindest. 

Put all the power you can upon the consonant of each 
accented syllable. Make each p, t and k very strong. 
Now pronounce these phrases: — 



ELOCUTIONARY READER 



1. For life, for liberty and independence. (Make 
three words of the phrases.) 

2. The Lightning's flash, (one word.) 

3. A horse! A horse! M y Kingdom for a horse. 
( Three words and the K of Kingdom very strong. ) 

4. In joy, in sorrow, in life, in death, thy hope shall 
live, shall live forever. (Six words.) 

In all speech, we must group the words and each 
group must be pronounced as one word. 



LESSON NO. 2 

Positions and Breathing Exercises 

L— POSITION. Stand well erect, your full height ; 
head up, eyes level and well open. Keep weight on balls 
of the feet, right foot advanced, bearing three-fourths 
of the weight. Hold position 30 seconds, without 
breathing, winking or moving the eyes. 

2. — Take a very quick breath, but do not move the 
chest or shoulders — keep them motionless. Now, take 
three steps forward, holding breath and keeping head 
up and eyes fixed. Take another breath, take three 
steps backward. Do not bend the knee in stepping. 

3. — Take breath and walk six steps forward. Breathe 
and retreat six steps. Do not move shoulders or chest; 
do not bend the knees in stepping. 

4. — Stand in Position No. 1. Take a book or box, any 
square or cubical object, place it upon the head. Now 
take a full breath as in No. 2, keep the weight balanced 
without holding or touching it with your hands. Now 
walk as in No. 3 and see that the weight is kept bal- 
anced. (If you cannot walk without holding this 
weight, you are lame.) 

Pronounce these sentences : 

1. — Arm, Arm, Arm! — the enemy is near! 

2. — The ocean — old, centuries old, paces — restless, to 
and fro — and far — and wide, — his beard of snow, 
heaves, with the heavinq of his breast. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 



3. — The roar — and crash, — the lightning's flash, — the 
moaning of the purple flood; the power — and wrath — 
that swept his path, and left his garments — dyed with 
Wood. 

Prolong all a's and o's in the emphatic words. Cut 
short and quick all the e's and i's. 

All open vowels may be prolonged. All closed vowels 
cannot be prolonged. A and O are open vowels. E and 
I are closed vowels. U is sometimes long. Double 
vowels and diphthongs are usually long. 

Each idea requires a pause. The first step in speech 
and reading is phrasing 



LESSON NO. 3 
Phrase Enunciation 

Repeat many times these examples. Pronounce each 
thought as one word and vibrate each vowel. 

1. The breaking leaves — dashed high. 

On a stem and rock-bound coast, 
And the tvoods — against a stormy sky 
Their giant branches — tossed. 

And the heavy night — hung dark 

The hills and waters o'er 
When a band of exiles — moored their bark 

On the wild Xetv England shore. 

What sought they thus — afar? 

Bright jewels of the mine? 
The wealth of seas? The spoils of tear? 

They sought a FaiWs pure shrine. 

Make each sound, each syllable, each word vibrant. 

2. Then, out spake brave Horatius, 

The captain of the gate : — 

"To every man upon this earth, 

Death cometh, soon or late ! 



ELOCUTIONARY READER 



And how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds, 
For the ashes of his fathers, 

For the temples of his gods! 

Be sure to phrase carefully. Conjunctions require 
pauses usually if they connect phrases and sentences. 



LOVE 



A restless thing — is the wind, 

But, its strength— is mightier — far 
Than a phalanxed host — in battle line, 

Than the limbs of a Sampson are. 

And, a restless thing — is Love, 

And a name— that vanisheth; 
But, her strength — is the wind's wild strength — above, 

For, she conquers shame — and death. 



LESSON NO. 4 



Fill lungs as before. Be careful not to lift the 
shoulders. Now, raise the chin, turning the head back 
as far as possible, hold it there for an instant and 
firmly, gradually, bring it forward until the chin 
presses firmly upon the breast. Try it several times. 
This will redden the neck and if there is a sore spot, 
you will find it. 

Phrase and read the following many times : 
1. I want free life and I want fresh air, 

And I sigh for the canter after the cattle! 

The crack of whips, like shots in the battle! 

The melee of horns and hoofs and heads, 

That wars and wrangles and scatters and spreads, 

The green beneath, the blue above, 

And joy and laughter and life and love 

And La sea! 
Note. — Prolong all open vowels, especially the em- 
phatic ones, and give quickly all close vowels. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 



2. — Farewell! A long farewell to all my greatness! 
This is the state of man! Today, he puts forth the ten- 
der leaves of hope; tomorrow — blossoms and bears his 
blushing honors — thick upon him; the third day conies 
a frost j a chilling frost and when he thinks, good, easy 
man — his glory is a-ripening, nips his root and then he 
/r/Z7s, as / do. 



Read this slowly, firmly. Stand erect; keep body 
firm, voice strong. 

But — whatever — may be our fate, be assured, be as- 
sured, that this Declaration — will stand. It may cost 
treasure, — and — it may cost blood ; but — it will stand. 
and — it will richly compensate — for both. Through 
the thick gloom — of the present,—! see the brightness 
— of the future — as the sun in heaven. We shall make 
this — a glorious.- — an immortal day. When we are in 
our graces — our children — will honor it. They will 
celebrate it — with thanksgiving, with festivity, — with 
bonfires. — and illuminations. On its annual return — 
they will shed tears, — copious, gushing tears, — not of 
subject ion and slavery. — not of agony and distress, but 
— of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. $i'r^-before 
God, — I believe — the hour is come. My judgement — ap- 
proves this measure, and — my whole heart is in it. All 
that I have. — and all that I am— and — all that I hope — 
in this life, — I am — now — ready — here to stake upon it; 
and — I leave off, as I began, that, live or die, survive or 
perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living senti- 
ment, — and — by the blessing of God — it shall be my 
dying sentiment — independence now; and independ- 
ence forever/" 



LESSON NO. 5 



Pauses. Each new idea must have a pause. Emotions, 
sometimes, require us to pause after each word. Then, 
when we join ideas, the conjunctions often require 
pauses. 



8 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

We must pause before and after each quotation. 
We must pause for each simile and metaphor. 

We must pause for words transposed, or out of the 
regular order. 

W T e must pause after verbs of hearing and seeing 
when the object seen or heard is unusual or the descrip- 
tion lengthy. 

We must pause for all great, all unusual ideas, and 
for all words of double meaning or used or in an extra- 
ordinary manner. 

Read the following sentences and give reasons for all 
pauses : 

1. There is a tide — in the affairs of men, — 
Which, — taken at its flood, — leads on to for- 
tune ; — 

Omitted, — all the voyage of their life — 
Is bound in shallows — and — in miseries : 
And — we must take the current when it runs, 
Or — lose our ventures. 

2. A more glorious victory, — cannot be gained over 
another man — than this / that — when the injury began 
on hds part, the kindness — should begin on ours. 

3. Full many a gem — of purest ray serene, — 

The dark, — unfathomed caves — of ocean bear; 
Full many a flower — is born — to blush unseen, — 
And waste its sweetness — on the desert air. 

4. Lives of great men — all — remind us 

We — can make our lives — sublime, 

And, — departing, — leave behind us — 

Footprints — on the sands of time. 

5. But — his little daughter — whispered, — 

As she took his icy hand, — 
"Isn't God — upon the ocean — 

Just the same — as on the land?" 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 



6. Or whispering — with white lips : — 4 The foe ! — they 
come! — they come!" 

7. But — to the hero, — when his sword — 

Has won the battle — for the free, — 
Thy voice — sounds — like a prophet's word, 
And — in Its hollow tones — are heard 

The thanks of millions — yet to be. 

8. O thou — Eternal One! whose presence bright — 
All spacer — doth occupy, — all motion — guide; — 
Unchanged — through time's — all-devastating 

flight; 
Thou — only — God ! — There — is — no — God — be- 
side ; — 



LESSON NO. 6 
Standing and Walking 

POSITION 

Stand well erect, feet at right angles, right heel at 
instep of left foot. Poise weight well forward, on balls 
of both feet. Keep both knees straight ; the back curved 
in and the waist firm. Hold chest well up; chin raised 
and eyes on the level. 

Caution: Except in character work, keep the line of 
the forward foot toward the instep of the rear foot. Do 
not practice with heels together. It is poor position and 
leads to bad habits. Keep weight on balls of feet. 

CHANGE POSITION BACKWARD 

Take step with right foot backward, but 45 degrees to 
the right. Bring left foot to instep of right foot. Do 
not step directly backward, but indirectly and to the 
right. If you step directly backward, you will appear 
to grow shorter and you will not secure a good position 
with the feet. If you wish to impersonate a clown or 
some other comedy character, step directly backward. 

Second Step. Step with left foot indirectly back- 



10 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

ward to the left; bring right foot toward the instep of 
left foot. . 

Practice these steps until you can make them easily 
and firmly. 

Caution. Do not allow either knee to bend in this 
exercise. If the knee bends slightly, you will seem to 
"bob" in your movements. 

Observation. The more nearly the lines of the feet 
form a right angle, the stronger will be your position 
and the more confidence you will feel. As the angle of 
the feet lessens and tends toward parallel lines, the 
weaker is your attitude and the less assurance you will 
have. 

Observation. 2. The advanced foot need not be 
drawn close to, or in contact with the other foot at the 
instep. It must keep the right angle line and may be 
advanced on this line several inches from the other foot. 
This will strengthen your attitude. Therefore, observe 
three things: 1. Feet, Eight Angles, 2. Knees, unbent, 
3. Forward foot advanced on right angle line. 

In all exercises maintain proper position and atti- 
tude. In this way it will become a habit, and lead you 
back to nature. 



LESSON NO. 7 
Deep Breathing Exercises 

1. — Stand well erect, — very tall. See that the back is 
well curved. Now fill the lungs by expanding the waist 
and Avalk. At each step, try to take in more air, — more ! 
more! more! Take six, eight or ten steps. 

2. — Stand well erect. Fill the lungs at the waist. 
Place your hands at the sides and bend slowly right 
and left. At each bending, try to draw in more breath. 
After six headings, rest and then repeat. 

3— Take a full breath — do not lift the shoulders. 
Prolong oo just as long as you can. Now. make the 
sound of oo as you fill the lungs, — fill them slowly and 
gradually. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 11 

4. — Prolong A as in arm a Prolong it 30 sec- 
onds, 40 seconds, one minute. Time it each trial and 
practice until you can prolong it two minutes or more. 
Now, try to make this sound by drawing in the breath. 
At first, you will only whisper it but, by and by, you 
can get it vocal. 

Try O in the same way. 

Read the following and pronounce each phrase as one 
word. 

The world for sale ! Hang out the sign ! 

Call every traveler here — to me! 
Who'll buy this brave estate of mine 

And set me from earth's bondage free? 
Tis going! Yes, I mean to fling 

This bauble from my soul aicay! 
I'll sell it, whaisoe're it bring! 

The world at auction here to-day! 
It is a glorious thing to see! 

Ah, it has cheated me so sore! 
It is not — what it scans to be; — 

For sale! It shall be mine no more! 
Fame! Hold the glittering meteor high! 

How dazzling every gilded name ! 
Ye millions. now's the time to buy! 

How much for fame ! How much for fame! 
Hear how it thunders! Would you stand 

On high Olympus, far-renowned f 
Then, purchase, and a world command, 
And — be with a world's curses crowned ! 



LESSON NO. 8 
Voice and Tone Vibration 

Thr wealth of Voice is Yibration. (let this, and all 
the lower teeth, 

1. — Stand erect, before a looking-glass. Hold the jaw 
firm, with the teeth slightly separated. Pronounce the 
word say several times. See that you can see the tips 
of the lower teeth. Do not move the jaw. You will feel 
the teeth vibrate with the sound. 



12 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

2. — Pronounce slowly and very firmly each word of 
the following phrases and direct the tones to the tips of 
the lower teeth. 

a. They may say, away, away, away! 

b. Sages vanish ivith the ages. 

c. And they shall see his great salvation. 

d. Ladies and gentlemen, I call attention to this 
proclamation : "Peace, peace on earth, good will to 
men!" See that every vowel rings clear and vibrant. 
Each sound must strike the teeth and you must feel the 
vibration. 



FINISHED 



My work is finished; I am strong 
In faith, and hope, and charity ; 
For I have written things I see. 
The things that Jiave been — and shall be. 
Conscious of right, nor fearing wrong; 
Because I am in love with Love, 
And the sole thing I hate — is Hate ; 
For Hate is death; and Love is life. 
A peace, a splendor — from above; 
And Hate — a never-ending strife, 
A smoke, a cloud — from the abyss 
Where unclean serpents — coil — and hiss! 
Love — is the Holy Ghost — within. 
Hate — the unpardonable sin! 
Who preaches otherwise than this 
Betrays his Master — with a kiss. 

—Longfellow 



LESSON NO. D 

BREATHING 

1. Stand well erect. Place hands against waist, 
thumbs backward, lingers to front. Keep lips closed. 
Give a quick gasp, forcing the waist outward. 

Do not move shoulders or chest ; keep head, neck and 
chest motionless — all the action must be at the waist. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 13 

2. Costal Breathing. Try again and have the hands 
move outward at the sides. Keep the mind centered on 
the sides and you can do it. 

3. Dorsal Breathing. Place the hands on the back 
well down and breathe again. See that you cause the 
muscles of the back to expand outward. 

Repeat each exercise several times. 

4. Deep-Full Breathing. Give a firm, quick gasp 
and force the waist outward in front, at sides and at 
back. 

Hold the breath several seconds. 

5. Take breath in same way and hold it while you 
walk several steps. 

Practice this until you can walk with waist firm and 
pressing outward. When you have mastered this exer- 
cise, you will have formed the habit of deep breathing. 



WORTH WHILE 

Phrase and read this poem. Take breath after each 
phrase. 

True worth — is in being, — not seeming, 
In doing — each day that goes by — 
Rome little good ; — not — in dreaming 
Of great things to do bye and bye. — 
No matter — what one says in fancy, — 
And — in spite of the follies of youth — 
There's nothing — so kingly as kindness — 
And nothing so royal — as truth. 
We cannot make bargains for blisses, 
Nor catch them like fishes in nets, 
And sometimes the thing our life misses 
Helps more than the things which it gets. 
For good lieth not in pursuing, 
Nor gaining of most, or all, 
But just in the being and doing 
As we would be done by, is all. 



14 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

LESSON NO. 10 

6. Quick Breath in g. Place hands at waist at the 
sides, keep them relaxed. Now breathe quickly and 
clench the hands tightly at the same instant. 

Try again and take a quick step forward as if start- 
ing to run. 

7. Walking and Breathing. Keep knees firm and 
step to the right, taking breath same as in Exercise 6. 
Step to left in same manner. 

Now walk forward slowly and with firm step, plac- 
ing the adyancing foot toe-first, heel turned well in- 
ward, and just as the weight comes on forward foot, 
breathe as in 6. Keep body erect, eyes fixed on level. 

Now walk again, and take the breath at each second 
step. Try again, six steps to one breath. 

Try the same exercise as you go upstairs. You will 
obserye that you get rid of your weight. 



EVENING BELLS 

,iohn JB. Goft'. the great orator, said: "Practice 'bell tones'; they 
will give the voice clearness, vibration, music and power." 

Pronounce "Toll," making the "T" hard and "O" deep and prolong 
the "1." When we give a bell stroke, there is a long, diminishing vi- 
bration. This sound can be made on "1, m, u, v." The "bell tones" 
must be heard throughout the entire poem. 

Those evening bells! Those evening bells! 
How many a tale their music tells 
Of youth and home, and that sweet time. 
When first I heard their pleasing chime! 

Those happy hours have passed away, 
And many a heart that then was gay 
Within the tomb now darkly dwells. 
And hears no more those evening bells. 

And so 'twill be when I am gone. 
That tuneful peal will still ring on! 
While other bards will walk these dells 
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. 

— Tom Moore. 



AXD GRADED RECITATIONS 15 

LESSON NO. 11 
Depth and Fullness of Tone 

1. — Pronounce A as in Age several times. Be sure it 
vibrates from the tips of the lower teeth. 

2. — Pronounce Lay, Lay. Lay, making the L very 
strong', but do not move the jaw. Eepeat many times. 

3. — Prolong the sound of A, and as you do so grad- 
ually round the lips to the shape of O, projecting them 
as far as possible. The sound will deepen and become 
like oo, but you keep it as near A as in Age as you can. 
Repeat many times. 

4. — Now, while you do the previous exercises, grad- 
ually raise the head, carrying it back as far as possible. 
Do not jerk or make a quick movement. You will feel 
the throat open and the tone will deepen. 

5. — Repeat the last exercise and while the head is 
raised high, the lips rounded well and projected, try 
hard to swallow the sound. Do not stop making the 
tone — keep it going. Work hard at it, for it will give a 
deep, sonorous tone and the exercise cannot hurt the 
throat. 

6. — Raise the head in the same way as you say No, 
making the A very firmly. 

Read the following: 

Out of the north — the wild news came, 
Far-flashing. — on its wings of flame, 
swift as the Boreal light — that flies, 
At midnight. — through the startled skies! 
And, there was tumult — in the air. 
The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat. 
And through the wide land, everywhere, 
The answering tread of hurrying feet. 



The night has a thousand eyes. 

And the day but one; 
Yet the light of the great world dies 

With the dvins sun. 



16 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

The mind has a thousand eyes, 

And the heart but one; 
Yet the light of a whole life dies 

When love is done. 

Pause after you introduce a new idea if it is im- 
portant. 



LESSON NO. 12 
Objective and Subjective Tones 

Take the exercises of Lesson 11. Make them as if 
calling them to some one 200 feet from you. Now as 
if to some one 600 feet away. Now make them as if 
drawing them to you from some point 200 feet away. 
Now as if from 600 feet away. A good speaker always 
drams the sound to him, except in comedy or negative 
emotions. Use these sentences as in the exercises, first 
calling to a distance, then drawing them. 

1. — All are scattered now and tied. 
2. — I sing the songs of the vanquished. 
3. — Art is long and time is fleeting. 

The quality of mercy — is not strained ; 

It droppcth — as the gentle rain — from heaven 

Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed; 

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 

? Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 

The throned monarch — better than his crown; 

His sceptre — shows the force of temporal power — 

The attribute to awe — and majesty. 

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 

But — mercy is above this sceptered sway ; 

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 

It is an attribute to God — himself; 

And earthly power — doth then show likest God's, 

When mercy — season's justice. Therefore, 

Though justice be thy plea, consider this — 

That, — in the course of justice, none of us 

Should see salvation : we do pray — for mercy. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 17 

And — that same prayer doth teach us — all — to render 
The deeds of mercy. 

Be sure each phrase is uttered as the unit of speech. 
Each idea requires a pause, an inflection, and an em- 
phatic accent. 

Remember, the number of pauses will depend upon 
your own interpretation— only a few are marked in 
each selection. 



LESSON NO. 13 



10. Muscular Breathing. Relax all muscles of body. 
Keep feet firm, toes well out, arms at sides. Breathe 
as in 9, but as you breathe, contract all the muscles of 
bod}'. Keep feet firm on floor, draiv yourself to fullest 
height, contract muscles of ankles, limbs, waist, neck, 
turning head backward, clench hands firmly and turn 
the hands outward from body. Do all this gradually 
until you have the utmost tension of all parts of body, 
and have filled the lungs to their fullest capacity. Hold 
several seconds, then suddenly relax all muscles and 
exhale air. 

11. M Breathing. Close the lips firmly. Make an 
aspirate m sound by inhaling through the nostrils. 
Make it three times and at each sound strike the waist 
muscles outward more firmly each time, the last stroke 
very strong. Make it like the count of one, two, three. 
Try again, and with four strokes. Again with six 
strokes. Be sure you strike more firmly as you men- 
tally count and put all the force you can into the last 
stroke. 

12. Vocal Inhalation, (a) Pronounce a, e, i, o, u, 
with quick indrawn breath. The sounds will be only 
whispers at first, but will become sub-vocal after some 
practice, and then vocal. Pronounce them singly like a 
gasp, and see the waist moves outward with each effort. 

(b) Now prolong each sound. See that they are in- 
drawn. 

(c) Put sh before each vowel, as ska, she, shi, sho. 



18 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

shit. Pronounce them singly first, then all in one in- 
halation. 

Repeat with indrawn aspiration these sentences: 

1. Wait! Silence! Not a step, not a word. 

2. A whisper j a breath — (/// is over! 

This whispered sound will be heard distinctly in the 
largest building. It requires practice, but it will repay 
all effort. 



LESSON NO. 14 



1. Bronchial Expansion. Fill the lungs as in Les- 
son 9. Take in plenty of air. Close the lips firmly and 
allow no breath to escape. Throw the head firmly back 
and draw in the waist, forcing the air of the lower part 
of the lungs into the bronchial tubes. Hold for several 
seconds. This exercise will bring the blood into your 
neck and face, but if done slowly and firmly it can do 
no harm. Do not hold it until it makes yon dizzy. 

2. Full Inspiration, Begin a breath with lips 
slightly parted, making a sound somewhat like an "s" 
or "sh" ; then when the lungs seem full, close the lips 
firmly and breath through the nostrils with sound of 
"ni-ni-m." Take in fullest capacity of lungs. 

3. Breath Retention. Breathe as in exercise 1, and 
hold breath while you walk or do the exercises in No. 10. 
The air in your lungs will expand as it becomes warm 
and thus enlarge the lung cells. 



Articulation and Precision 

Pronounce the following and hold the final consonant 
long and firm. 

1. — Ake, eek, ike, ok, ook, ik, oik. 
2. — Ape, eep, ipe, ope, oop, ip, oip. 
:\. — Ate, eat, ite, oat, oot, it, oit. 
4. — Kake, keek, kike, koke, kik. 
5. — Pape, peep, pipe, pope, pip. 
G. — Tate, teet, life, tote, toot. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 19 

Make open and closing consonants very firmly, — hold 
them well. Now pronounce each word of the following- 
sentences as if to some one 200 feet away and be sure 
he hears each individual sound. 

1. — The crash of matter and the wreck of worlds. 

2. — Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. 

3. — All excellence demandeth skill. 

4. — The hills, rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun. 

5. — Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy 
youth. 

6. — Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the pitcher 
be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the 
cistern, then shall the dust return to the earth as it was 
and the Spirit unto God who gave it. 



LESSON NO. 15 



A modulated voice should change to express the var- 
ied ideas. It need not imitate the sound, but should 
harmonize with it. Thus, if we speak of "tolling bells." 
of "whispering winds," of "murmuring ocean/ 5 of "pat- 
tering rain drops," of "crash and roar and dash of 
spray," the voice should suggest all these ideas by 
changes of pitch, volume and power. Great ideas of 
material things demand deeper, fuller tones. Thus, the 
brook ripples, the river murmurs, the deep-sounding 
ocean roars. In this selection, the tones must be full, 
deep and well blent. Keep the throat well open and 
make pauses long, — go slowly. 



THE OCEAN 

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods. 

There is a rapture on the lonely shore. 
There is society, where none intrudes. 

By the deep sea and music in its roar. 

I love not man the less but nature more, 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 

From all I may be. or have been before, 
To mingle with the universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal, 



20 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll ! 

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 

Stops with the shore; — upon the watery plain 

The wrecks are all thv deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain. 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan — 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown. 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee; — 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? 

Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 

Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou ; 
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, 

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow : 

Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 

Borne, like thy bubbles onward ; from a boy 
I wantoned with thy breakers, — they to me 
Were a delight ; and, if the freshening sea 

Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear ; 
For I was, as it were, a child of thee, 

And trusted to thy billows far and near, 

And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 

— George Gordon Byron. 



LESSON NO. 10 
Exercise for Vibration 

1. — Part lips slightly as if smiling, and hold jaw still 
and repeat: — a-a-a, e-e-e i-i-i. 

This sound must rin<>- clearly from the tips of the 
teeth. 

2. — Repeat : They say a way may be made this day. 

3. — Awake; awake! ring the alarm bell! 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 21 

4. — Ladies and gentlemen, there may be many with 
us this day, in ignorance of our plans. 

5. — In the deep silence of the night, the far-off bells 
rang sweet and clear. 

6. — We hold these truths to be self-evident : That all 
men are created equal. That they are endowed by their 
Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among 
these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 

7.— Rejoice, you men of Angiers ! Ring your bells ! 
King John, your King and England's, doth approach ! 
Open your gates and give the victors way. 

Obs. Every sound must be clear; every letter heard. 
Each vowel must ring clear, clean-cut and vibrant from 
the tips of the teeth — the lower teeth. Practice each 
sentence many times. In all exercises, keep the waist 
muscles pressing outward as you make the tones. 

Now, repeat the lines of Tennyson's exquisite poem, 
and if you miss or mar a single letter, count it a failure. 
Make each vocal sound as clear and as sympathetic as 
the note of a violin. 



CROSSING THE BAR 

Twilight and evening star! 

And one clear call for me ! 
And, may there be no moaning of the bar 

When I put out to sea ! 

But, such a tide, as moving, 
Seems asleep! 
Too full for sound or foam, 
When that which drew from 
Out the boundless deep. 
Returns again, home. 

Twilight and evening bell ! 

And after that the dark! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell 

When I embark. 



22 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

For, though, from out this bourne 

Of Time and Space 
The flood may bear me far, 

I hope to see my Pilot, face to face, 
When I have crossed the bar! 



LESSON NO. V 



5. Chest Expansion, (a) Begin as in exercise 13, 
and continue breathing until the chest is fully ex- 
panded by the inflation of the lungs. Now throw the 
shoulders well back and with the chest forward and up- 
ward, the waist firm, walk ten, twenty or thirty steps. 
Repeat several times. 

(b) Fill the lungs same as before, then clasp hands 
above the head and bend to right and left firmly several 
times, allowing no breath to escape. 

(c) Fill lungs as before, lifting chest well, high as 
you can, now clench the hands firmly, and keeping the 
arms straight, raise them parallel and bring them up 
high as the face, then on up, high as you can reach, and 
down backward with slow, regular movement and keep 
them as nearly parallel as possible. Do not make any 
quick, jerky movements. 

(d) Fill lungs as before, keep arms at side, fully ex- 
tended, clench the hands and swing arms backward, 
keeping them as nearly parallel as possible. While you 
do this, bend the body forward, until the top of the 
head is turned toward the toes. Keep the knees firm 
and allow no breath to escape. Still holding the 
breath, raise body and bend backward far as possible. 
Turn the head backward also, until you can see the wall 
back of you and bring the arms slowly up in two great 
parallel circles. Do this slowly and firmly. 

These exercises will develop the chest and force the 
air into all closed or unused cells of the lungs. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 23 

Gymnastics for Vocal Organs 

I wish to bring a full and fresh supply of blood to the 
neck and flush all the speech organs. 

1. — Take a very full breath, shut the jaw firmly. 
Now, holding this full breath, slowly, firmly turn the 
head to the left until the chin is over the shoulder, then 
turn the head to the right in like manner. Be sure you 
do not jerk the head. Repeat several times. 



LESSON NO. 18 

INDEPENDENCE BELL 

There was tumult, in the city, 



In that quaint, old Quaker town, 
And the streets were rife with people 

Pacing, restless, up and down, 
People gathering at the coiners, 

Where, they whispered, each to each, 
And the sweat stood on their temples 

With earnestness of speech. 



01) s. Stop for each new idea, also for each idea re- 
peated for new meaning; also for conjunctions, if they 
connect sentences or several former ideas with what 
follows. 

Obs. 2. Listen before, and while you speak each idea 
of sound; look, look hard, when you speak ideas of 
sight. 

Obs. 3. Remember, gesture starts with mind im- 
pulses. When you hear the sounds, that is the real ges- 
ture. After a time, head, hands and the entire body 
will respond to these mind impulses and they will com- 
plete the gesture action. Gesture is much more of the 
mind than of the body. To think, to hear, to feel 
clearly and intensely, is the soul impulse, or mind 
gesture. 

All ideas for utterance, must first impress the 
speaker, after the deep impressions Ave can have the 
expression. 



24 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

"Will they do it?" "Dare they do it?" 

"Who is speaking?" "What's the news?' 
"What of Adams?" "What of Sherman?" 

"O, God grant they won't refuse !" 
"Make some way there !" "Let me nearer !" 

"I am stifling!" "Stifle then ! 
When a nation's life's at hazard, 

We've no time to think of men !" 



Obs. Can you see this thing? Can you see the indi- 
vidual faces and hear the voices? Some will only whis- 
per; some will shout; some are being crushed and 
trampled. One, maybe is at your right, another far 
down in front, still another, almost beneath your feet. 
See all, hear all and then express vividly what you hear 
and see. 

As the bleak Atlantic currents 

Lash the wild Newfoundland shore, 
So they surged against the State House, 

So they beat against the door, 
And the mingling of their voices 

Made a harmony profound 
'Till the quiet street of Chestnut 

Was all turbulent with sound. 

So, they surged against the State House, 

While all solemnly inside, 
Sat the Continental Congress, 

Truth and reason for their guide, 
O'er a simple scroll debating, 

Which, though simple it might be, 
Still would shake the cliffs of England, 

With the thunders of the free. 

Far aloft in that high steeple, 

Sat the bellman, old and grey, 
He was weary of the tyrant 

And his iron-sceptered sway. 
So, he sat, his one hand ready 

On the clapper of the bell, 
'Till his eye could catch the s'gnal, 

The long-expected news to tell. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 25 

Obs. Be alert ! Pauses are quick. You must eateh 
the eagerness of the old man and the crowd. 

See ! see ! The dense crowd quivers 

Through all its lengthening line, 
As the boy, beside the portal 

Hastens forth to give the sign ! 
With his little hands uplifted, 

Breezes dallying with his hair, 
Hark, with deep, clear intonation, 

Breaks his young voice on the air, 
Hushed the people's swelling murmur, 

While the boy cries joyously : 
"Ring!" he shouts. "Ring; Grandpapa 

Ring, O ring for Liberty !" 
Quickly at the given signal 

That old bellman lifts his hand, 
Forth he sends the good news, 

Making iron music through the land. 

How they shouted; what rejoicing! 

How the old bell shook the air; 
■Till the clang of Freedom ruffled 

The calmly gliding Delaware. 
That old State House bell is silent, 

Hushed is now its clamorous tongue, 
But the spirit it awakened. 

Still is living, ever young, 
And, when we greet the smiling sunlight. 

On the fourth of each July, 
Let us not forget the bellman, 

Who betwixt the earth and sky 
Rang out loudly, "Independence," 

Which, please God, shall never die ! 



Obs. Listen to the bell as to an organ or piano. Let 
your voice keep measure and melody of the bell. 

Point out all objects and keep your attention upon 
them. See and make the audience see; listen and make 
them hear every sound. 



26 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Obs. 1. To express ideas of great things, of profound 
things, we must go slowly, giving longer pauses and 
more time to all open vowels, and also work to lower 
tones of pitch. 

Obs. 2. Always pause before a simile. Do not utter 
the words until your mind fully comprehends the idea 
and has received strong impression ; then give your 
expression. 



LESSON NO. 19 
Voice, Drill and Practice 

Practice the following exercises three times a day. 
two minutes each time. 

1. — a, a, a; e, e, e; i, i, i; o, o, o; u, u, u: oo, oo, oo. 
Keep jaw firm, separate teeth from one-eighth to one- 
half inch, keep waist firm and force the waist outward 
as you make the sound. 

2. — La, La; Lee, Lee; Lo, Lo ; Lu, Lu; Loo. Make L 
very hard; do not move jaw. 

3. — No, no; nee, nee; ni, nl; noo, noo. Make N long 
and hard; move jaw as little as possible. 

3. — Now, note, now, now. Make this slowly and 
firmly and prolong it more and more. 

4. — Now you lay low. lay low now. Make this line 
one word — one long word. 



Lung Bath. Round the lips and project them. 
Throw the head far back until the face is parallel with 
the ceiling. Extend the arms fully and throw them 
back as far as possible. Bend back well in and just as 
you do all these things, draw through the lips as if 
through a tube, all the air you can until the lungs are 
flushed, filled, crowded with air. As you draw in the 
air make the sound of "o-o-o." Hold for an instant and 
exhale suddenly with sound of "hop," at the same 
instant bring arms to side, head forward to normal 1 
position. Repeat six times. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 27 

Registers and Contrasts of Voice 

Repeat this sentence pleasantly and smilingly as to a 
group of children. 

1. — f Tis only a little story of a little love and tears. 
Keep voice light and pleasant. Now make this one 
deep and serious. 

2. — Because, man goeth to his long Jiome and the 
mourners go about the street. 

3. — And deeper than the sound of seas, 
More soft than falling flake; 
While angels hushed their songs to hear 
The voice Eternal spake. 
4. — Here, the sunshine; there, the storm. Here the 
cradle ; there, the tomb. 



LESSON NO. 20 

The poem, "The Bells,'' requires all powers of the 
voice in pitch, intonation, contrast and force. The 
first part is upper register, light, clear, rapid and 
vibrant. The second part must be middle register, soft, 
musical, like a chime of beautiful bells. The third part 
is a combination of middle and low registers, harsh, 
dissonant and terrifying. The last part is low register, 
slow, solemn and mournful. 



THE BELLS 

Edgar Allan Poe. 

1. Hear the sledges Avith the bells — 
Silver bells ! 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night ! 
While the stars that oversprinkle 
All the heavens, seem to twinkle 
With a ci^stalline delight; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 



28 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 

From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 

Bells, bells, bells — 

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

2. Hear the mellow wedding-bells, 

Golden bells ! 
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their delight ! 
From the molten-golden notes, 

And all in tune, 
What a liquid ditty floats 
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloat3 
On the moon ! 
Oh, from out the sounding cells, 
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! 
How it swells! 
How it dwells 
On the Future' how it tells 
Of the rapture that impels 
To the swinging and the ringing 
Of the bells, bells, bells— 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells bells— 
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! 

3. Hear the loud alarum bells — 

Brazen bells! 
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! 
In the startled ear of night 

How they scream out their affright ! 
Too much horrified to speak. 
They can only shriek, shriek, 
Out of tune. 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire 
Leaping higher higher, higher. 
With a desperate desire, 
And a resolute endeavor, 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 29 

Now — now to sit or never, 
By the side of the pale-faced moon. 
Oh, the bells, bells, bells! 
What a tale their terror tells 
Of despair! 
How they clang, and clash, and roar ! 
What a horror they outpour 
On the bosom of the palpitating air ! 
Yet the ear it fully knows, 
By the twanging 
And the clanging, 
How the danger ebbs and flows ; 
Yet the ear distinctly tells, 
In the jangling, 
And the wrangling, 
How the danger sinks and swells, 
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells — 
Of the bells— 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells— 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells ! 

4. Hear the tolling of the bells — 
Iron bells! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! 
In the silence of the night, 
How we shiver with affright 
At the melancholy menace of their tone! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats 

Is a groan. 
And the people — ah, the people — 
They that dwell up in the steeple, 

All alone, 
And who tolling, tolling, tolling, 

In that muffled monotone, 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone — 
They are neither man nor woman — 
Thev are neither brute nor human — 



30 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

They are Ghouls: 
And their king it is who tolls; 
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 
Bolls, 
A paean from the bells ! 
And his merry bosom swells 

With the paean of the bells ! 
And he dances, and he jells ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the paean of the bells — 

Of the bells : 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 

To the throbbing of the bells — 

Of the bells, bells, bells— 
To the sobbing of the bells ; 
Keeping time, time, time. 

As he knells, knells, knells, 
In a happy Runic rhyme, 
To the rolling of the bells — 
Of the bells, bells, bells— 
To the tolling of the bells, 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells- 
Bells, bells, bells— 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 



¥ 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 31 



RECITATIONS FOR 
THIRD AND FOURTH GRADES 



A-WONDERING OF HOME FOLKS 

Byron W. King 

This is supposed to be an old man speaking, dreaming 
a day dream of home. 

Just a-wondering, — if they're thinking — of a pilgrim 
far away. 

Just a-wondering — if it's lonesome — in that little home 
today ! 

Just a-wondering — if when morning — in at the door 
and window slips, 

And the bright eyes wake from slumber, if my name is 
on their lips ! 

Just a-wondering — if when evening — hides the earth in 
shadows dim, 

If they speak the name of "Daddy," hungering just a 
bit for him ! 

Just a-wondering — if the Junior ever halts his merry 
laugh, 

When his earnest, wistful vision strikes his old Dad's 
"fortograph !" 

Just a-wondering if my daughter, growing into Avoman- 
hood, 

Might forget her plain old father for some wooden- 
headed dude ! 

Just a-wondering if the youngest might forget my good- 
bye kiss 

And the big, rough hands that trembled with her little 
ones in his ! 



32 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Just a-wondering 'till a heartache creeps up here inside 

my vest. 
And my eyes hurt with the shadows that are creepin' 

'cross the west. 
Just a-wondering — No, I'm certain there is one who 

don't forget! 
One whose thoughts are ever with me like great stars 

that never set! 
One whose prayers go on before me, lighting all the 

shadowy deeps; 
One who doubly joys in my joy, at my sorrow doubly 

weeps, 
So, I softly say, "God bless 'em !" say it while my eyes 

are dim; 
Daddy thinks a lot of home folks, and he knows they 

think of him ! 



THE EASIEST WAY 

All negative ideas take rising inflections. All ideas 
of what you dislike or disapprove must have rising in- 
flection. Inflection is our mark of approval or dislike. 

The easiest way — doesn't lead to fame, 
' The easiest way — doesn't lead to rest. 
The easiest way — doesn't win the game, 
For — often — the hardest way is best. 

And thousands journey the easiest way, 
Choosing the simplest tasks to do, 

They love to dance and they love to play, 
But the hardest road is trod by few. 

But those who travel the hardest way 

Are brave of heart and unafraid. 
And they face the trials of today 

With courage firm and undismayed. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 33 

And — in the end, — the golden goal — 
Becomes their own — and perfect rest 

And — peace — rewards each striving soul. 
And with content each life is blest. 

The hardest way — is long — and rough. 

Beset with disappointments, too ; 
But the man — who is made of the sterner stuff — 

Elects to fioht with the noble few. 



GRAYLANDS 

Observe well the pauses after conjunctions and adverbs. It takes 
time to join ideas. 

When we go down to Gra viands, — together we shall go; 
As we went down to Roselands — in the bloom of 
April glow ! 
To Graylands, to Graylands, ah, will it not be sweet, 
When we go down to Gravlands in the davs of weary 
feet! 

Some — fear the way to Gravlands and sav — it must not 

be 
That they shall leave their youth behind and all their 

sunny glee; 
But — when ?rc go to Graylands — it will not be with 

fear, 
For — we shall go together — as in Maytime of love's 

vear ! 



"'The shadows dwell in Graylands, of vanished dreams," 
they cry, 

But — we shall go together — till we find the sunny sky; 

And — with the shadows — singing— and with the sweet- 
heart tune, 

Go down to Graylands — happy — as we were in lore's 
young June. 



34 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

When we go down to Graylands, — I wonder — shall it 

be- 
That we shall go together, little sweetheart, you with 

me! 
For — then — it would not matter — how deep the night 

and drear, 
Our hearts would sing in Graylands — as they sang in 

Roselands, dear. 



CHILD LOST! 

In olden times, when any message was to be proclaimed, it was 
given to the bellman, who would make his way through the town, 
ring his bell and cry aloud the news. Make his tones slow and with 
downward glides of pitch. The voice should be monotonous and 
wierd. 

"Nine," by the cathredal clock! 

Chill the air with rising damps ; 
Drearily from block to block 

In the gloom the bell-man tramps — - 
"Child lost! Child lost! 
Blue eyes, curly hair. 
Pink dress, — child lost !" 

Something in the doleful strain 

Makes the dullest listener start, 
And a sympathetic pain 

Shoot to every feeling heart. 
Anxious fathers homeward haste, 

Musing with paternal pride 
Of their daughters, happy-faced, 

Silken-haired and sparkling-eyed. 
Many a tender mother sees 

Younglings playing round her chair, 
Thinking, "If 'twere one of these, 

How could I the anguish bear?" 

"Ten," the old cathedral sounds; 

Dark and gloomy are the streets; 
Still the bell-man goes his rounds, 

SI ill his doleful cry repeats — 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 35 

"Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! 
Child lost! Blue eyes, 
Curly hair, pink dress,— 
Child lost ! Child lost !" 

'Can't my little one be found? 

Are there any tidings, friend?" 
Cries the mother, "Is she drowned? 

Is she stolen ? God f orf end ! 
Search the commons, search the parks, 

Search the doorways and the halls, 
Search the alleys, foul and dark, 

Search the empty market stalls. 
Here is gold and silver — see! 

Take it all and welcome, man; 
Only bring my child to me, 

Let me have my child again." 

Hark! the old cathedral bell 

Peals "eleven," and it sounds 
To the mother like a knell ; 

Still the bell-man goes his rounds — 
"Child lost ! Child lost ! 
Blue eyes, curly hair, 
Pink dress, — child lost !" 

Half aroused from dreams of peace, 

Man}- hear the lonesome call, 
Then into their beds of ease 

Into deeper slumbers fall; 
But the anxious mother cries, 

"Oh, my darling's curly hair, 
Oh, her sweetly-smiling eyes! 

Have you- sought her everywhere ? 
Long and agonizing dread 

Chills my heart and drives me wild — 
What if Minnie should be dead? 

God, in mercy, find my child !" 



36 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

"Twelve/* by the cathedral clock; 
Dimly shine the midnight lamps ; 
Cheerily from block to block, 

In the rain the bell-man tramps — 
"Child found ! Child found ; 
Blue eyes, curly hair, 
Pink dress, — child found!" 



YESTERDAY 

Where have they vanished? Is that what you say? 
Into the land of dim Yesterday ; 
Into the Shadow-land, into the mist, 
Hands that we pressed, lips that we kissed, 
Eyes that looked love into ours through tears, 
Hearts that beat time with ours for years ; 
Silently, swiftly have all passed away 
Into the Shadow-land, Yesterday. 

There are the songs the sweet lips have sung, 
Voices that echo like chimes far-off rung; 
There are the hopes that were cherished and bright, 
All passed away like stars of the night. 
There are the promises fleeting as breath. 
Sundered and rent by the swift hand of death ; 
Memories only still linger and stay, 
Memories sweet of the glad Yesterday. 

There in that mist-land of Shadow and Tears, 
Lie the great treasures of swift -fleeting years ; 
Measures of gold that toilers have won, 
Loftiest deeds that brave heroes have done; 
Crowns that are blood-bought, now eaten with rust, 
Sceptres and thrones that are crumbling to dust ; 
Towers and palaces splendid and grand. 
Proud-glowing trophies of many a land, 
Cliding still farther and farther away 
Into the mist of the far Yesterday. 

— Byron W. King. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 37 

UP-HILL 

We must use two- voices in this selection. Let the answering voice 
be calm, even and firm. The first voice is that of a traveler, anxious 
and weary. The more earnest we are, the more slowly we must speak; 
the more serious, the deeper the tones. 

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? 

"Yes, to the very end." 
Will the journey take the whole long day? 

"From morn to night, my friend.'' 

But, is there for night a resting-place? 

"A roof when the dark hours begin." 
May not darkness hide it from my face? 

"You cannot miss that Inn." 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? 

"Those who have gone before." 
Must I knock, or call when just in sight? 

"They wait you at the door." 

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? 

"Of rest you shall find the sum." 
Will there be beds for all who seek? 

"Yea, beds for all who come." 

— Christina Rossetti. 



SONG OF THE WINTER WINDS 

If we prolong oo and glide up and down in pitch it will sound like 
the wind. Try oo-o-ee and make ee on high pitch. Now, give "O 
pity the poor" and prolong all the vowels, changing 'y" to "ee." 
Make like sound for all the wind lines. 

Oh, what is the song that the winter winds sing, 
As earth they are robing with snows that they bring 
From the crystalline realms of the stern Ice-king? 
"Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor!" 

Adown the dark street they are rushing along, 
And into the ears of the hurrying throng, 
They, determinate, shout the words of their song, 
"Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor!" 



38 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

They rattle the shutters of the rich millionaire, 
To knock for the mendicant, shivering there, 
And are whispering through, on the cold, cold air, 
"Oh, pity the poor ! oh, pity the poor !" 

They part the white curtains, and hover beside 
The pillow of one in her maidenhood's pride, 
And breathe to her gently, "The Lord will provide. 
"Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor!" 

Have ye not heard it, this song born of love, 
Sung by His messengers sent from above 
To tell us our duty, our stewardship prove? 
Then pity the poor, then pity the poor ! 

"The poor ye have always," let love then prevail, 
Lend to the weak, the distressed, and the frail, 
Whom friendship has shut without ber white pale, 
Because they are poor, because they are poor. 

Is this the glad song that the winter winds sing- 
As back they are soaring with unwearied wing, 
To the crystalline realms of the stern Ice-king? 
"Earth pities her poor, earth pities her poor!" 

— William M. Clark 



WHEN I WAS A BOY 

Up in the attic where I slept 

When I was a boy — a little boy ! — 
In through the lattice the moonlight crept, 
Bringing a tide of dreams that swept 
Over the low red trundle bed, 
Bathing the tangled curly head, 
While moonbeams played at hide and seek 
With the dimples on each sun-browned cheek, 
When I was a boy — a little boy ! 

And, O the dreams, the dreams I dreamed 
When I was a bov — a little bov. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 39 

For the grace that through the lattice streamed 

Over my folded eyelids, seemed 
To have the gift of prophecy, 
And to give me glimpses of time to be, 

When manhood's clarion seemed to call. 

Oh, that was the sweetest dream of all, 
When I was a boy — a little boy ! 

I'd like to sleep where I used to sleep 

When I was a boy — a little boy! 
For in at the lattice the moon would creep, 
Bringing her tide of dreams to sweep 

The crosses and griefs of the tears away 

From the heart that is weary and faint today, 
And those dreams should give me back again 
The peace I have never known since then — 

When I was a boy — a little boy ! 



THE LITTLE RED HEN 

Here is a poem many people ought to hear. There are so many 
Duck-people, Goose-people and Piggy-people. I like the little Red 
Hen ! She worked real hard, she did, and raised a crop, harvested it 
and got it milled and baked the loaf all herself. Now, some people 
might say she was selfish, but I know she just wished to teach lazy 
folks a lesson. The little Red Hen put snap and energy into her 
work. I know she will talk that way, too. Who will show us how? 

The Little Red Hen had some kernels of corn 

She wanted to plant in a row. 
She asked Mr. Piggy, Miss Goose and Miss Duck 

To help, but they answered, "Oh, no !" 
"Not I !" said the Goose, and "Not I !" said the Duck, 

While Piggy just ran off and hid. 
"All right," said the Hen, "if you won't, why, you won't. 

I will plant it myself.'' And she did. 

When the corn was all ripe, "Who will take it today," 

Said the Little Red Hen, "to the mill? 
Won't somebody offer to carry the bag? 

I will be much obliged if you will." 



40 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

"Not I !" said the Goose, and "Not I !" said the Duck — 

While Piggy just ran off and hid. 
"All right," said the Hen, "if you won't, why, you won't. 

I will take it myself." And she did. 

When she brought home the meal, said the Little Red 
Hen, 
"Won't somebody help make the bread?" 

But nobody offered to help her a bit, 
And this is what each of them said : 

"Not I !" said the Goose and "Not I !" said the Duck- 
While Piggy just ran off and hid. 

"All right," said the Hen, "if you won't, why, you won't. 
"I will bake it myself." And she did. 

The Little Red Hen baked the loaf all herself. 

At last it was ready to eat. 
The others looked on as she buttered a slice, 

And crowded around at her feet. 
"I'll help you eat it!" said Goosie and Duck; 

"And I !" said Piggy, with a grunt. 
"Oh, thank you so much," said the Little Red Hen, 

"But I have an idea you won't." — And they didn't. 



EDITH'S SECRET 

Here's a secret ! You must tell it iu a whisper. Be sure no one 
overhears you. Of course, boys in our school are not like Bob. Our 
boys would not rob a bird's nest, but some other boy might hear and 
then, just think! The birds are our little friends and they wake us 
with song and show us how to be happy. I think this is a robin's 
nest. Do you t They are great home-builders and fine house-keepers. 

Hark ! I've a secret to whisper ! 

Listen — but don't you tell! 
'Cause it isn't mine to be giving, 

And it isn't mine to sell ! 

I went in the orchard this morning, 

To gather some clover blooms, 
For the bees in the hives — so busy 

They can't leave their dungeon glooms! 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 41 

And while I was there, I looked up 

And saw — now, don't you tell ! 
'Cause if Bob should hear (he's my brother), 

There's nothing he'd like so well ! 

I saw up there, in the branches, 

'Most hidden by leaves an' boughs, 
A wee, soft nest — just the dearest 

And tiniest birdie's house! 

And what do you s'pose was in it? 

I climbed up, and almost fell — 
(Hush ! there comes Bob) — four bird's eggs ! 

Remember, you musn't tell ! 



THREE LITTLE SOLDIERS 

Three little soldiers — paper caps. 
Cornstalk guns and shoulder straps, 
Hearked to the spring-bird's morning call. 
Shouldered their arms and one and all 
Marched in the light of the golden day 
Over the hills and far away. 

Three little soldiers, tired and sore, 
Back from their bloodless, mimic war. 
Clustered about their mother's knee, 
Told their tales in childish glee; 
Tales of the mock, heroic fray — 
Over the hills and far away. 

Three bonny boys, a mother's pride. 
With tear-dimmed eyes and martial stride, 
Hearked to their bleeding country's call, 
Shouldered their arms and one and all 
Marched in the misty morning grey. 
Over the hills and far away. 

Under the blood-stained uniform. 

Three gallant hearts, once blithe and warm, 

Throb no more at the bugle's call. 

Heed not the banner's rise and fall ; — 

Three bonny boys are lifeless clay, 

Over the hills and far away. — J. B. Naylor. 



42 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

THE KITCHEN POKER 

The Irish dialect glides upward in pitch in comedy. The vowels are 
prolonged and the upward movement is from two to four notes 
usually. In pathos, the voice glides downward. The tones must be 
made well forward and vibrated fully upon the teeth. 

The Irish is remarkable for its beauty of intonation, its clearness 
of vibration, and it is wonderfully effective for both humor and 
pathos. The Irishman is proud of his honor, and when you speak of 
that, he "quits joking." 

Swate widow Flagg, one winter's night 

Invited a tea party, 
Of elegant gentility, 

And made the boys quite hearty ; 
But just as they were breaking up, 

She missed her kitchen poker, 
And delicately hinted, that 

The thief was Paddy Croker. 

Now, Pat, he was a Grenadier, 

In what is called the Grey Light Horse ; 
A stouter, cleaner, tighter lad — 

Upon my soul, there never was. 
Says he unto the widow : 

"Do you take me for a joker? 
Do you think I'd come into your house 

And steal your dirty poker? 

Yoour nasty, diity poker, 

Your dirty kitchen poker ! 
Do you think an Irish gintleman 

Would steal your dirty poker?" 

But all that he could say or do 

Had no effect upon her. 
At length says she : "Now, Pat, will you 

Declare upon your honor?'' 
Arrah! Pat stared and started back, 

His hand behind his cloaker! 
"Ye touch my honor, touch my life; — 

There is your dirty poker ! — 

Your nasty kitchen poker; 

Your dirty, ugly poker. 
Touch my honor, — touch my life; — 

Here ! Take your dirty poker !" 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 43 



THE LAY OF AN EGG 

There are lots of troubles in the world and some folks are just 
trouble-makers. The best way is to do our work and not worry. Let 
us all read this poem, and one of us will take the good mother hen's 
part, and another the bragging duck's part, and some good-natured 
boy ean have the part of the dog. Yes, and we must not forget the 
eat. Some people think animals can't talk, — but then some people 
never did amount to much ! 

Good Mrs. Biddy has laid a white egg, 

"Cluck! cluck! cluck!" 
And she is as proud as a hen can be, 
And calls to her friends to come in and see, 

"Cluck ! cluck ! cluck !" 

The first to appear was old Mother Duck, 

"Quack ! quack ! quack !" 
''What have you got there, dear Mrs. Hen? 
Only an egg? I'm sitting on ten! 
Quack ! quack ! quack !" 

The next one to come was the stable cat, 

"Miaow ow ow ! 

A cat, my dear, may look at a king. 
But what's to see in that round, white thing?" 
Miaow ow ow!" 

Poor Mrs. Biddy sat down to cry, 

"Cluck I cluck ! cluck ! 
"I was proud of my pretty white egg," said she, 
"But eggs seem common as common can be. 
Cluck ! cluck ! cluck !" 

But Towser cried, as he picked his bone, 

"Bow ! wow ! wow ! 
"You've done your duty, so don't you mind 
If folks say things a little unkind, 
Bow ! wow ! wow !" 

So good Mrs. Biddy took heart again, 

"Cluck! cluck! cluck! 
I won't care a button what some folk say !" 
And she laid a pretty white egg each day. 

"Cluck! cluck! cluck!" / 



44 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

After awhile those eggs were hatched, 

"Cheep ! cheep ! cheep !" 
The chicks were the dearest of dear little things, 
With nice little heads and nice little wings ! 

"Cheep ! cheep ! cheep !" 



A KINDLY LETTER 

The Alphabet family is a queer one! The children, the letters, are 
funny little fellows. People talk with them so much, it would not be 
strange if they did a little talking themselves. Letters are like little 
people, small but very important. If you wish to know how big a 
little letter can be, just spell it out. These letters have traveled a 
great deal. You will find them in all cities and in all lands. 

The letter K got lonesome quite. 

And people called him queer, 
And so he wrote to letter A : 

"My friend and comrade dear, 
I wish you'd come and live with me; 

For you and I, 'tis plain, 
Are made to rule o'er other folk 

In this our great domain. 
Our house shall have a roomy L, 

Where we may take our E's, 
With naught to do the livelong day 

Except to tend the B's. 

And all who live within our court 

Shall wear their hair in Q's; 
Sweet P's shall grow around our door, 

And green T's shall we use. 
Of course, we'll travel o'er the C's 

To every land we know, 
From R's in France to Zuyder Z ; 

And no man shall we O. 
Indeed, we'll be so extra Y's, 

We'll act as one, not two ; 
And though you are the first in rank, 

Why, I'll be W." 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 45 



FIFTH AND SIXTH GRADES 



EUGENE FIELD 

Be sure each vowel is clear and the voice soft and sweet, like music. 
Make the pauses long*. Pathos and beauty require time for feeling 
and appreciation. 

There's a trail of mist — on the low — gray deep, 

A blur of rain — on the land, — 
And — the breath of flowers — where he lies — asleep, 

With — one — white rose — in his hand. 

The strong, — sweet singer, — who left his lute — 

Until — the dawn should come, 
But — drifted away with the morning tide, 

And left it — forever — dumb. 

And — what are the wonders — his eyes have seen, 
And — what are the secrets — he knows? 

He never will tell — as he lies there — asleep — 
Just clasping — the sweet — white rose. 

But — in the splendor of seraph's song 

He seems — the poet we knew; 
In happy gardens — of blossoms — and dreams — 

He wanders — with little Boy Blue. 

They smile at the toys they left for a night, 
The play-things of youth and of age ; 

For the man is a child in the Kingdom of Light, 
And the child is as wise as the sage. 

And whatever pleasure in Heaven may be, 

This lover so tender and true 
Will turn from the splendor of angel joys 

To the face of his little Bov Blue. 



46 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

THE WILL AND THE WAY 

The author of this poem is John G. Saxe, of Vermont. He knew life 
and the qualities needful to win success. He won fame and distinc- 
tion with determined effort and perseverance. He saw the humor of 
the old world and he scattered smiles all the way along the rough 
road. His poems are earnest and helpful. He believed in backbone 
of body and mind,— a backbone that would support a head and uphold 
a spirit. He lived and loved and laughed, and he won! The poem 
must be spoken with energy of voice and action. 

It was a noble Roman, 

In Rome's imperial day, 
Who heard a coward croaker, 

Before the battle, say: 
"They're safe in such a fortress; 

There is no way to shake it — " 
"On ! on !" exclaimed the hero, 

"I'll find a way, or make it !" 

Is fame your aspiration? 

Her path is steep and high : 
In vain he seeks the temple. 

Content to gaze and sigh ! 
The shining throne is waiting, 

But he alone can take it 
Who says, with Roman firmness, 

"I'll find a way, or make it." 

Is learning your ambition? 

There is no royal road; 
Alike the peer and peasant 

Must climb to her abode ; 
Who feels the thirst for knowledge. 

In Helicon may slake it, 
If he has still the Roman will 

To "find a way, or make it." 

Are riches worth the getting? 

They must be bravely sought; 
With wishing and with fretting. 

The boon cannot be bought; 
To all the prize is open. 

But only he can take it 
Who says, with Roman courage, 

"I'll find a way, or make it!" 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 47 

DAYBREAK 

A wind came up out of the sea, 
And said, "0 mists, make room for me." 
It hailed the ships, and cried, "Sail cd, 
Ye mariners, the night is gone." 

And hurried landward far away, 
Crying, "Awake! it is the day." 
It said unto the forest, "Shout! 
Hang all your leafy banners out!" 

It touched the wood-bird's folded wing. 
And said, "O bird, awake and sing." 
And o'er the farms, "O chanticleer, 
Your clarion blow ; the day is near." 

It whispered to the fields of corn, 
"Bow down, and hail the coming morn." 
It shouted through the belfry-tower, 
"Awake, O bell ! proclaim the hour." 

It crossed the churchyard with a sigh. 
And said, "Not yet ! in quiet lie." 

— Henry W. Longfellow. 



THE SOLDIER'S MONUMENT 

A monument — for the soldiers ! 

And — what will you build of it? 
Can ye build it of marble, — or brass, — or bronze, — 

Outlasting — the soldier's love? 
Can ye glorify it — with legends — 

As grand — as their blood— hath writ,— 
From the inmost shrine — of this Land of thine — 

To the uttermost verge' of it? 



&' 



And — the answer came : We would build it- 
Out of our hopes — made sure, — 

And — out of our purest prayers — and tears,- 
And — out of our faith — secure; 



48 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

We would build it — out of the great white truths — 

Their death — hath sanctified. 
And — the sculptured forms — of the men in arms, — 

And their faces — ere they died. 

And — what heroic figure — 

Can the sculpture — carve in stone? 
Can the marble breast — be made to bleed — 

And the marble lips — to moan? 
Can the marble brow — be fevered ? 

And — the marble eyes — be graved 
To look their last — as the flag — floats past, 

On the Country — they have saved? 

Each pupil should mark the phrases of the remaining 
stanzas, — also, all accents for emphasis. 

And the answer came: The figures 

Shall all be fair and brave, 
And, as befitting, as pure and white 

As the stars above their grave ! 
The marble lips and breast and brow 

Whereon the laurel lies, 
Bequeath us right to guard the flight 

Of the old flag of the skies. 

A monument for the soldiers ! 

Built of a people's love, 
And blazoned and decked and panoplied 

With the hearts ye built it of! 
And see that ye build it stately, 

In pillar and niche and gate, 
And high in pose as the souls of those 

It would commemorate! 

— James Whiteoml) Riley. 



AND GRADES RECITATIONS 49 



EVENING AT THE FARM 

The poem by J. T. Trowbridge gives us beautiful pictures of farm 
life. All poets are lovers of nature and of animals. The long lanes, 
the -wide-sweeping plains, the high-arehing hills, the deep-curving 
valleys, the somber forests, the herds of fleecy sheep, the lowing 
cattle, the myriad voices of birds and insect. — these have given inspi- 
ration to poets of all ages. 

In this first stanza, the meter keeps time to the farm-boy's step. 
When he calls the cows, the voice should be high and the sounds pro- 
longed. Then, for the distant sound, keep the same pitch of voice and 
prolong each sound a little more. If you turn the head to the right or 
left while making the distant sound, it will seem more like the echo. 

Make the farmer's voice deeper and fuller than the boy's voice. 
Then, the milk -maid should have a beautiful voice. All milk -maids' 
voices are beautiful. — in poetry ! 



1. Over the hill the farm-boy goes, 

His shadow lengthens along the land, 
A giant staff in a giant hand ; 
In the poplar-tree, above the spring. 
The Katydid begins to sing; 

The early dews are falling; — 
Into the stone-heap darts the mink; 
The swallows skim the river's brink ; 
And home to the woodland fly the crows. 
When over the hill the farm-boy goes. 
Cheerily calling, 
"Co', boss ! eo\ boss ! co* ! co' ! co' !" 
Farther, farther, over the hill. 
Faintly calling, calling still, 
"Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' !" 

2. Into the yard the farmer goes, 

With grateful heart, at the close of day : 
Harness and chain are hung away; 
In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plow ; 
The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow ; 

The cooling dews are falling: 
The friendly sheep his welcome bleat. 
The pigs come grunting to his feet. 



50 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

The whinnying horse his master knows, 
When into the yard the farmer goes, 
His cattle calling — 
"Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !" 
While still the cow-boy far away, 
Goes seeking those that have gone astray — 
"Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' !" 

3. Now to her task the milkmaid goes. 

The cattle come crowding through the gate, 
Lowing, pushing, little and great; 
About the trough, by the farm-yard pump, 
The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump, 

While the pleasant dews are falling; — 
The new milch heifer is quick and shy, 
But the old cow waits with tranquil eye, 
And the white stream into the bright pail flows. 
When to her task the milkmaid goes, 
Soothingly calling, 
"So, bass ! so, boss ! so ! so ! so !" 
The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, 
And sits and milks in the twilight cool, 
Saying, "So ! so, boss ! so ! so !" 

4. To supper at last the farmer goes. 

The apples are pared, the paper read, 
The stories are told, then all to bed. 
Without, the crickets' ceaseless song 
Makes shrill the silence all night long ; 

The heavy dews are falling ; — 
The housewife's hand has turned the lock; 
Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock ; 
The household sinks in deep repose', 
Rut still in sleep the farm-boy goes, 
Singing, calling, 
"Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !" 
And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams. 
Drums in the pail with the flashing streams, 
Murmuring, "So, boss! so!" 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 51 

WHAT THE WOOD FIRE SAID TO THE 
LITTLE BOY 

Once there was a man named Shakespeare. And he loved people, 
big and little people, too, and he loved birds and beasts and flowers 
and trees, and he learned many of their secrets. And he said there 
were "tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in 
stones, and good in everything." Think of it! Many people are miss- 
ing a lot ! Let us see if we can hear the old tree tell his story. He 
tells it to a boy, but that's just because he couldn't find a girl. I 
know it was. I wonder how the wood talks in the fire. I think the 
voice will be snappy and clear, — don't you ? 

What said the wood in the fire 

To the little boy that night, 
The little boy of the golden hair, 
As he rocked himself in his little armchair, 

When the blaze was burning bright? 

The wood said : "See 

What they've done to me ! 
I stood in the forest, a beautiful tree ! 
And waved my branches from east to west, 
And many a sweet bird built its nest 

In my leaves of green 

That loved to lean 
In springtime over the daisies' breast. 

"Prom the blossomy dells 

Where the violet dwells 
The cattle came with their clanking bells 
And rested under my shadows sweet, 
And the winds that went over the clover and wheat, 

Told me all they knew 

Of the flowers that grew 
In the beautiful meadows that dreamed at my feet ! 

"And the wild wind's caresses 

Oft rumpled my tresses, 
But, sometimes, as soft as a mother's lip presses 
On the brow of the child of her bosom, it laid 



52 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Its lips on my leaves, and I was not afraid ; 

And I listened and heard 

The small heart of each bird, 
As it beat in the nests that their mothers had made. 

"And in springtime sweet faces 

Of myriad graces 
Came beaming and gleaming from flowery places, 
And under my grateful and joy -giving shade, 
With cheeks like primroses, the little ones played. 

And the sunshine in showers 

Through all the bright hours 
Bound their flowery ringlets with silvery braid. 

"And the lightning 
Came brightening 
From storm skies and frightening 
The wandering birds that were tossed by the breeze 
And tilted like ships on black, billowy seas ; 

But they flew to my breast, 

And I rocked them to lest, 
While the trembling vines clustered and clung to my 

knees. 

"But how soon," said the wood, 

"Fades the memory of good ! 
For the forester came with his axe gleaming bright. 
And I fell like a giant all shorn of his might, 

Yet still there must be 

Some sweet mission for me : 
For have I not warmed you and cheered you tonight?'' 

So said the wood in the fire 

To the little boy that night. 
The little boy of the golden hair. 
As he rocked himself in his little armchair. 

When the blaze was burning bright. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 53 

LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP 

This is one of Longfellow's most beautiful poems. When he speaks 
of the shin he would have us think of our country. A poet often says 
two things at the same time. The descriptive parts of the poem are 
very fine. We must prolong and swell the open vowels of all the em- 
phatic words. When you speak of the ocean, let the tones be deep 
and full. Deep emotions and great conceptions should be uttered with 
low tones. The last appeal to the "Union" forms a great climax and 
each succeeding phrase should be in a higher pitch than the former 
odc. We must not forget that beautiful ideas, emotions and thoughts 
require beautiful tones of voice and graceful gestures. Words are the 
embodiment of thought and voice is the vesture or garment to make 
them beautiful. We must not mar the music of the poem with harsh 
or unpleasant tones. 

"Build me straight, O worthy master. 
Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, 
That shall laugh at all disaster 
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle." 

The merchant's word, delighted, the master 

heard : 
For his heart was in his work and the heart 
Giveth grace unto every Art. 
And, with a voice that was full of glee, 
He answered : "Ere long we shall launch 
A vessel as goodly and strong and staunch 
As ever weathered a wintry sea !" 

All is finished! and at length 

Has come the bridal day 

Of beauty and of strength. 

To-day the vessel shall be launched ! 

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 

And o'er the bay. 

Slowly, in all his splendors dight. 

The great sun rises to behold the sight. 

The ocean old. 

Centuries old, 

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, 

Paces restless to and fro. 

Up and down the sands of gold. 



54 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

His beating heart is not at rest ; 

And far and wide, 

With ceaseless flow, 

His beard of snow 

Heaves with the heaving of his breast. 

He waits impatient for his bride. 

There she stands, 

With her foot upon the sands, 

Decked with flags and streamers gay, 

In honor of her marriage-day, 

Her snow-white signals, fluttering, blending, 

Round her like a veil descending, 

Ready to be 

The bride of the gray, old sea. 

Then the Master, 

With a gesture of command, 

Waved his hand; 

And, at the word, 

Loud and sudden there was heard, 

All around them and below, 

The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 

Knocking away the shores and spurs. 

And see! she stirs! 

She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel 

The thrill of life along her keel, 

And, spurning with her foot the ground, 

With one exulting, joyous bound, 

She leaps into the ocean's arms ! 

And lo ! from the assembled crowd 
There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, 
That to the ocean seemed to say, 
"Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray ; 
Take her to thy protecting arms, 
With all her youth and all her charms." 

How beautiful she is! how fair 

She lies within those arms, that press 

Her form with many a soft caress 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 55 

Of tenderness and watchful care ! 

Sail forth into the sea, O ship! 

Through wind and wave, right onward steer ! 

The moistened eye, the trembling lip, 

Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! 
Sail on, O Union, strong and great! 
Humanity, with all its fears, 
With all the hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate! 
We know what Master laid thy keel, 
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge and what a heat, 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock ; 

'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale ! 

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea. 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 

Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 



56 ELOCUTIONARY READER 



AT THE CROSS ROADS 
By F. C. Wellman. 

When we begin a narrative or story, we must go slowly and make 
many pauses. The audience must understand the place, the people 
and the incidents. Then, we must see all the things of which we 
speak, and it will help if we point them all out and make pictures for 
the listeners. After we see it we must make other people see it, just 
as if we saw it when it occurred and then told the story. 

The more sympathy we feel, the more slowly we speak. We must 
give quotations, at least, twice the time of other phrases. 

In emotional selections the pauses are more effective than words, for 
they move the speaker and help him to be more earnest. 



An old man — sat — at the cross roads — 

On a stone — by the village street. 
He was weary — and worn — and travel-stained — 

And faint — from the dust — and heat, 
And — his gray head — drooped — as he sat there — 

With hunger and travel — spent. 
While — the noon-day throng — went — hurrying by — 

On their homeward journey — bent. 
And — I passed by — with the others, — 

In that heedless current — caught, 
That — nor rocks — nor cares — for the stranger poor, 

Nor the homeless wanderer's lot. 

But the picture left its image ; 

I could not drive it away, 
And I thought of One who would surely have paused 

Had He been in the crowd that day. 
How His eyes sought out the outcast, 

Who was barred from his fellow's door. 
How He gave His hand to the woman shamed. 

And bade her sin no more. 
I saw Him kneel by the leper, 

As he shuddered and cried, "Unclean !" 
And health and joy and manhood came 

At the touch of the Nazarene. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 57 

They are sitting there at the cross roads. 

Weary and faint — alone. 
There are many bowed with a sinner's shame, 

Or a shame that is not their own. 
It may be a friendless orphan, 

Or a slave in the thrall of drink — 
Your path may lead to a happy home, 

And his to the river's brink. 
The wretched, the weak the burdened, 

The pilgrim with way-worn feet — 
They are sitting there as the old man sat 

At the place where the cross roads meet. 

Oh, linger a bit at the wayside, 

And let your heart be heard, 
As it bids you pause by your brother-man 

And give him a cheering word. 
For the life that loves is lovely 

And the soul that gives expands, 
And the heart that warms to a brother's need 

Is like to the Son of Man's. 
And the meed will be right royal, 

When he says to you and me, 
"Inasmuch as ye did for the least of these. 

Ye have done it unto me." 



WHAT HAVE WE DONE TODAY? 

There are big words in the dictionary. They are "Here" and 
"Now." The time to smile, to speak is now; the place is here. So 
many people plan to do great things to-morrow, but the things are 
never done. Lazy people are always dreaming of "to-morrow." and 
when it comes they fail to wake up. Let us see how many smiles, 
kind words, helpful deeds we can crowd into To-day. 

We shall do so much in the years to come, 

But what have we done today? 
We shall give our gold in a princely sum, 

But what did we give today? 
We shall lift the heart and dry the tear, 
We shall plant a hope in the place of fear, 
We shall speak the words of love and cheer! 

But what did we speak today? 



58 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

We shall be so kind in the afterwhile, 

But what have we been today? 
We shall bring each lonely life a smile, 

But what have we brought today? 
We shall give to truth a grander birth, 
And to steadfast faith a deeper worth, 
We shall feed the hungering souls of earth ; 
But whom have we fed today? 

We shall reap such joys in the by and by, 
But what have we sown today? 

We shall build us mansions in the sky, 
But what have we built today? 

'Tis sweet in idle dreams to bask, 

But here and now do we our task ; 

Yes, this is the thing our souls must ask : 
What have we done today? 

— Nixon Waterman. 



GRANDPA'S SPECTACLES 

I like old people ! They know so many beautiful stories and they 
loye to tell them, too. Lives are like books and we can all learn much 
from them. If we can get old people to tell us the things they have 
seen and heard and lived, it will be like listening to stories read from 
the pages of wonderful books. Be gentle with the old, for they are 
pilgrims nearing the end of a long journey. 

O Mama! what will grandpa do, 

He's gone away to Heaven 
Without the silver spectacles 

That Uncle John had given? 
How can he read his papers there, 

Or find his hickory staff? 
He'll put his coat on wrong-side out, 

And make the people laugh. 

And when he takes his Bible down, 

And wipes its dusty lid, 
He'll never find his spectacles 

Within its cover hid : 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 59 

And there won't be any wee girl there, 

He likes as well as me, 
To run and hunt them up for him 

And put them on his knee. 

Oh, dear! he'll never find the place 

About the "wicked flea," 
And how "the bears eat children up" — 

(That used to frighten me,) 
So, Mama, if you'll dress me up, 

Just like an angel bright, 
I'll put our ladder 'gainst the sky 

And take them up tonight. 



HOME, SWEET HOME 

This poem was written by a man who had no home. Hungry and 
eold, he walked the streets of London, and then in a humble garret, 
he wrote these wonderful lines. It is a world-poem, for it expresses 
the longings of all hearts. It is an ageless poem, for it will be re- 
peated as long- as human lips utter language. 

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; 
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, 
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with else- 
where. 

I gaze on the moon, as I 'trace the drear wild. 
And feel that my parent now thinks of her child ; 
She looks on that moon from our own cottage door, 
Through woodbines whose fragrance shall cheer me no 
more. 

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain ; 
Oh ! give me mv lowly-thatched cottage again ; 
The birds singing gaily that came at my call ; 
Give these, with sweet peace of mind, dearer than all. 

If I return home overburdened with care. 

The heart's dearest solace I'm sure to meet there; 

The bliss I experienced whenever I come. 

Makes no other place seem like that of sweet home. 



60 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Farewell, peaceful cottage! farewell, happy home! 
Forever I'm doomed a poor exile to roam ; 
This poor aching heart must be laid in the tomb, 
Ere it cease to regret the endearments of home. 

— John Howard Payne. 



HOW DID YOU DIE? 

Here is a poem brimful of life and action. When you find work 
difficult and results are slow in coming, keep busy. You will be well 
repaid by your own efforts. What looks like failure is often the 
greatest victory. 

Did you tackle the trouble that came your way, 

With a resolute heart and cheerful? 
Or hide your face from the light of day, 

With a craven soul and fearful? 
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce, 

Or a trouble is what you make it ; 
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, 

Rut, only, how did you take it? 

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that? 

Come up with a smiling face. 
It's nothing against you to fall down flat, 

But to lie there — that's the disgrace. 
The harder you're thrown, why, the higher you bounce ; 

Re proud of your blackened eye! 
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts; 

It's how did you fight — and why? 

And though you be done to the death, what then? 

If you battled the best you could, 
If you played your part in the world of men. 

Why, the Critic will call it good. 
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, 

And whether he's slow or spry, 
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, 

But only how did you die? 

— Edmund Vance Cooke. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 61 



RECITATIONS FOR 
SEVENTH AND EIGHTH GRADES 



THE TWO VILLAGES 
By Rose Terry. 

This is a beautiful poem and the voice must be beautiful to match 
the words. The voice in the second and third stanzas must be very 
clear and the pauses long. The words must be very distinct, like 
voices sound on a still night, or in an empty room. A good reader 
can suggest day or night, sunshine or shadow, life or death, with his 
voice. 

Over the river — on the hill, — 
Lieth a village — white — and still ; 
All around it — the forest trees — 
Shiver — and whisper — in the breeze; 
Over it — sailing shadows go : 
Of soaring hawk and screaming crow, 
And mountain grasses, low and sweet, 
Grow in the middle of every street. 

Over the river under the hill. 
Another village lieth still; 
There I see in the cloudy night 
Twinkling stars of household light, 
Fires that gleam from the smithy's door, 
Mists that curl on the river shore; 
And in the road no grasses grow, 
For the wheels that hasten to and fro. 

In that village on the hill 

Never is sound of smithy or mill ; 

The houses are thatched with grass and flowers ; 

Never a clock to toll the hours; 

The marble doors are always shut ; 

You cannot enter in hall or hut. 

All the villagers lie asleep; 

Never again to sow or reap, 

Never in dreams to moan or sigh, 

Silent, and idle, and low thev lie. 



62 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

In that village under the hill, 
When the night is starry and still, 
Many a weary soul in prayer 
Looks to the other village there, 
And, weeping and sighing, longs to go 
Up to that home, from this below ; 
Longs to sleep in the forest wild, 
Whither have vanished wife and child, 
And heareth, praying, this answer fall — 
''Patience! that village shall hold ye all." 



AMERICA 

This is a wonderful poem. Each stanza has a double climax. In 
the first stanza the words "country," "liberty," "thee," form a series, 
and "thee" is the climax and must be given in highest pitch. Then, 
the remainder of the stanza forms a second series. Not many poems 
are so well adapted for recitation. The pauses must be accurate, the 
voice clear and the pitches decided. Let us give it with energy and 
enthusiasm. Begin last stanza with lower tones and make longer 
pauses. 

My country j 'tis of thee, 
Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing; 
Land — where my fathers died. 
Land — of the pilgrims' pride ; 
From every mountain side, 

Let freedom ring. 

My native country — thee, 
Land of the noble free, — 

Thy name I love ; 
I love thy rocks— and rills, 
T-hy woods — and templed hills; 
My heart with rapture thrills 

Like that above. 

Let music — swell the breeze. 
And ring — from all the trees 

Sweet freedom's song; 
Let mortal tongues awake, 
Let all that breathe partake, 
Let rocks their silence break — 

The sound prolong. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 63 

Our fathers' God ! to Thee, 
Author of liberty, 

To Thee we sing ; 
Long — niay our land be bright — 
With freedom's holy light ; 
Protect us — by Thy might, 

Great God, — our King! 

—S. F. Smith. LL. D. 



MY LOVE AND I 

Byron W. King. 

I know, if every restless tide 

That circles life with fall and flow, 
If all the storms of winter wide, 

That from the deep, dark heavens blow 
Between us two should sweep ; — 
Still, through the tide and o'er the storm 
Each should behold a cherished form, 
And spirit call to spirit warm. 

And soul with soul should weep. 

I know, if all that life can hold 

Of treasured wealth that men esteem, 
If rank and fame and gild of gold, 
All vanish, like a splendid dream. 
And thou remain alone ;- — 
These one and all could I resign. 
Could I but clasp thy heart to mine, 
And, strong in that sweet love of thine, 
Could mock all fate had done. 

And if the shadow dim and cold. 

That waits upon the shores of Night. 
Should come forth silently and bold, 
And beckon from my longing sight 
The friends of former years; — 
Though iow in ashes by the dead, 
I bowed with dust on heart and head, 
Still, still life's path we two cou'd t end, 
Mingling our prayers and tuirs. 



64 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

And when it conies — for come it will- 
That one of us shall lie so low, 
And by a form all cold and still 
The other kneel in speechless woe, 
All mute in lone despair; — 
Still there, above the voiceless tomb, 
I feel the soul bewept would come, 
And kiss the quivering lips so dumb, 
And Love be conqueror there. 



THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE 

Robert Browning. 

This is a stirring poem. Give the parts in quotation with whisper. 
Keep tones well up and make pauses abrupt. We must not speak too 
rapidly, but with the quick, sharp pauses, we can suggest rapid action. 
The last stanza must be very slow and the King's speech must be 
slowest of all and very tender. 

Word — was brought — to the Danish king — 

"Hurry!" 
That the love of his heart — lay suffering — 
And pined — for the comfort his voice would bring ; 

"O ! ride — as though you were flying !" 
Better — he loves each golden curl — 
On the brow of that Scandinavian girl — 
Than his rich crown jewels — of ruby and pearl : 

And— the Rose of his Isles is dying. 

Thirty nobles — saddled — with speed. 

"Hurry !" 
Each one — mounting a gallant steed, 
Which he kept for battle — and days of need. 

"O! ride as though you were flying!" 
Spurs were struck — in the foaming flanks, — 
Worn-out chargers — staggered — and sank ; 
Bridles were slackened and girths were burst. 
But— ride as they would,— the king rode first,— 

For the Rose of his Isles lay dying. — 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 65 

His nobles are beaten, one by one. 
"Hurry !" 

They have fainted and faltered and homeward gone ; 
And his little fair page now follows alone, 

For strength and for courage trying. 
The king looked back at that faithful child — 
Wan was the face that answering smiled — 
They passed the drawbridge with clattering din ; 
Then he dropped and only the king rode in 

Where his Rose of the Isles lay dying! 

The king blew a blast on his bugle horn. 

(Silence!) 
No answer came; but faint and forlorn 
An echo returned on the cold, grey morn. 

Like the breath of a spirit sighing. 
The castle portal stood grimly wide — 
None welcomed the king from his weary ride — 
For dead in the light of the dawning day 
The pale, sweet face of the wel comer lay, 

Who had yearned for his voice while dying! 

The panting steed with a drooping crest 

Stood weary. 
The king returned from her chamber of rest, 
The thick sobs choking his manly breast, 

And that dumb companion eyeing, 
The tears gushed forth which he strove to check ; 
He bowed his head on his charger's neck: 
"O, steed — that every nerve didst strain. 
Dear steed, our ride has been in vain, 

To the halls where my love lay dying!" 



66 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

MARCO BOZZARIS 

1. At midnight, — in his guarded tent, — 

The Turk — was dreaming — of the hour — 
When — Greece,— her knee — in suppliance — bent, 

Should tremble — at his power. 
In dreams, through camp and court — he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; — 

In dreams, — his song of triumph— heard ; 
Then— wore his monarch's signet-ring: — 
Then — pressed that monarch's throne — a king : 
As wild — his thoughts, and gay — of wing, — 

As Eden's garden-bird. 

This stanza must show caution. Low tones, long 
pauses. 

2. At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart and hand. 
There had the Persian's thousands stood, 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood, 

On old Platsea's day : 
And now there breathed that haunted air, 
The sons of sires who conquered there, 
With arms to strike, and soul to dare. 

As quick, as far as they. 

Action — quick pauses, abrupt tones, very strong at 
close of stanza. 

3. An hour — passed on — the Turk — awoke ; 

That bright dream — was his last : 
He woke — to hear — his sentries — shriek, 
"To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
He woke — to die — mid flame — and smoke, — 
And shout, — and groan, — and saber-stroke, 

And death-shots — falling — thick — and fast — 
As lightnings — from the mountain-cloud; 
And heard, with voice — as trumpet loud, — 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 67 

Bozzaris cheer his band : 
"Strike! — till the last armed foe — expires; — 
Strike ! — for your altars — and your fires ; — 
Strike ! — for the green graves of your sires ; — 

God — and your natiye land !" 

4. They fought — like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled the ground with Moslem slain ; 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud — "hurrah," 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

Slow, deep tones; beginning on higher pitches and 
descend. 

5. Come — to the bridal chamber, — Death ! 

Come — to the mother, — when she feels, 
For the first time, — her first-born's breath ; — 

Come — when the blessed seals — 
That close the pestilence — are broke, — 
And crowded cities — wail its stroke; 
Come — in consumption's ghastly form, — 
The earthquake shock, — the ocean storm ;— 

Make ascending climax until you reach "dance and 
wine," then descend on each emphatic word. 

Come — when the heart beats high — and warm, — 
With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, 

And thou art terrible : the tear, 

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 

And all we know, or dream, or fear 
Of agony, are thine. * 



68 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

6. But — to the hero, — when his sword — 

Has won the battle — for the free, — 
Thy voice — sounds — like a prophet's word, 
And — in its hollow tones — are heard 

The thanks of millions — yet to be. 
Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 

Even — in her own proud clime. 
We tell thy doom — without a sigh; 
For thou art Freedom's — now, — and Fame's — 
One — of the few, the immortal names 

That were not born to die. 

— Fitz-Greene Halleck. 



COLUMBUS 

Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind the gates of Hercules; 
Before him not the ghost of shores, 

Before him only shoreless seas. 
The good mate said : "Now must we pray, 

For lo ! the very stars are gone. 
Brave Admiral, speak; what shall I say?" 

"Why say 'sail on ! sail on ! and on !' ' 

"My men grow mutinous day by day ; 

My men grow ghastly wan and weak." 
The stout mate thought of home ; a spray 

Of salt wave dashed his swarthy cheek. 
"What shall I say, brave Admiral, say. 

If we sight naught but the seas at dawn ?" 
"Why, you shall say at break of day, 

'Sail on ! sail on ! sail on ! and on !' " 

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, 
Until at last the blanched mate said : 
"Why, now not even God would know 
Should I and all my men fall dead. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 69 

These very winds forget their way, 
For God from these dread seas is gone. 

Now speak, brave Admiral ; speak and say — " 
He said ; "Sail on ! sail on ! and on !" 

They sailed. They sailed. Then spoke the mate 

"This mad sea shows its teeth tonight. 
He curls his lip, he lies in wait, 

With lifted teeth, as if to bite ! 
Brave Admiral, say but one good word ; 
What shall w T e do when hope is gone?" 
The words leapt as a leaping sword : 
"Sail on ! sail on ! sail on ! and on !" 

Then pale and worn, he kept his deck, 

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night, 
Of all dark nights ! And then a speck — 

A light ! A light ! A light ! A light ! 
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled ! 

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn ; 
He gained a world ; he gave that world 

Its grandest lesson : "On ! and on !" 

— Joaquin Miller. 



ADDRESS AT GETTYSBURG 

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought 
forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in lib- 
erty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are 
created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, 
testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived 
and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a 
great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedi- 
cate a portion of that field as a final resting place for 
those who here gave their lives that that nation might 
live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should 
do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we 
cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The 
brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have 
consecrated it far above our power to add to or detract. 
The world will little note nor long remember what we 



70 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It 
is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the 
unfinished work which they who fought here have thus 
far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here 
dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that 
from these honored dead we take increased devotion to 
that cause for which they gave the last full measure of 
devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead 
shall not have died in vain ; that this nation, under God, 
shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government 
of the people, by the people and for the people shall not 
perish from the earth. — Address of President Lincoln at 
Gettysburg, Nov. 19, 1863. 



LOST 
Byron W. King 

You have lost your way, my darling ! 

Been chasing the butterflies! 
And the pansies blue and the daisies you 

Have followed with eager eyes; 
And the way you took led down by the brook 

That is flowing afar to the sea, 
And you wandered on 'till the day is gone, 

And you are tired as tired can be ! 

You are crying, now, my darling! 

And you think that home is best ! 
For the butterflies that dazzled your eyes 

Have flown away to rest; 
And the birds that sung when the day was young 

Are tucked away in their nest ! 
Your clothes are torn by briar and thorn 

And you got your face scratched, too ! 
You have stubbed your toe, Oh ! yes, I know ; 

I once was a lad like vou ! 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 71 

I'll lead you home, my darling ; 

Come, put your hand in mine! 
Why, it isn't far, from where you are 

You can see the lamp-light shine ! 
But, you had your back to the homeward track ; 

You must turn around like this! 
See ! here is the door you were looking for, 

And your mother waits with a kiss ! 

You have lost your way, O brother ! 

Been chasing the butterflies ! 
The shadowy gleams and the fanciful dreams 

Of Pleasure have dazzled your eyes ! 
You have echoed the laugh of lips that quaff 

Life's wine in the golden day, 
And you heeded not but forgot, forgot, 

And you wandered away, away ! 

I will lead you home, my brother, 

Away from the din and strife; 
This way runs straight to the golden gate, 

The beautiful Gate of Life; — 
The art of living is giving and giving, 

With heart and soul and mind, 
Forgetful of self, of pleasure and pelf, 

Just labor to serve mankind. 



72 ELOCUTIONARY READER 



THE FAMINE 

When we tell sad things, the voice glides downward in pitch. If 
we repeat the line, "O the long and dreary winter," the words "long" 
and "dreary" must be prolonged and given downward slides. Then, 
"dreary" must have lower pitch than "long." So, in the line, "Ever 
deeper, deeper, deeper," give each succeeding word in lower pitch. 

When we wish to excite or animate the audience, we go upward in 
pitch. 

Moaning and crying are given with downward slides. Sentiments 
of joy, happiness and laughter are given with ascending tones, but 
sorrow, grief, pain, all go downward. 

We must observe that the words may start on a high pitch but 
glide to lower. In this line, "Give your children food, O Father!" the 
word "food" is high pitch, but will, when prolonged, glide downward 
from three to five notes. 

We must have special voices for the ghosts in this selection ; also, 
for old Nokomis and for Hiawatha. 



O — the long — and dreary — Winter! 
O — the cold — and cruel — Winter! 
Ever — thicker, — thicker, — thicker — 
Froze the ice — on lake — and river, — 
Ever — deeper, — deeper, — deeper — 
Fell the snow — o'er all the landscape, — 
Fell — the covering snow, — and drifted — 
Through the forest, — round the village.— 
Hardly — from his buried wigwam — 
Could the hunter — force a passage; 
With his mittens and his snow-shoes 
Vainly walked he through the forest, 
Sought for bird or beast and found none. 
Saw no track of deer or rabbit, 
In the snow beheld no footprints, 
In the ghastly, gleaming forest 
Fell, and could not rise from weakness, 
Perished there from cold and hunger. 

/ 

O the famine and the fever ! 
O the wasting of the famine! 
O the blasting of the fever! 
O the wailing of the children ! 
O the anguish of the women ! 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 75 

All the earth was sick and famished ; 
Hungry was the air around them. 
Hungry was the sky above them, 
And the hungry stars in heaven 
Like the eyes of wolves glared at them ! 

Into Hiawatha's wigwam 
Came two other guests, as silent 
As the ghosts were, and as gloomy, 
Waited not to be invited, 
Did not parley at the doorway, 
Sat there without word of welcome 
In the seat of Laughing Water ; 
Looked with haggard eyes and hollow 
At the face of Laughing Water, 
And the foremost said : "Behold me ! 
I am Famine, Bukadawin !" 
And the other said : "Behold me ! 
I am Fever, Ahkosewin !" 
And the lovely Minnehaha 
Shuddered as they looked upon her, 
Shuddered at the words they uttered, 
Lay down on her bed in silence, 
Hid her face, but made no answer ; 
Lay there trembling, freezing, burning 
At the looks they cast upon her, 
At the fearful words they uttered. 

Forth into the empty forest 

Rushed the maddened Hiawatha ; 

In his heart was deadly sorrow, 

In his face a stony firmness ; 

On his brow the sweat of anguish 

Started, but it froze and fell not. 

Wrapped in furs and armed for hunting, 

With his mighty bow of ash-tree, 

With his quiver full of arrows, 

With his mittens, Minjekahwun, 

Into the vast and vacant forest 

On his snow-shoes strode he forward : 



74 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

"Gitche Manito, the Mighty!" 
Cried he with his face uplifted 
In that bitter hour of anguish, 
"Give jour children food, O Father ! 
Give us food, or we must perish ! 
Give me food for Minnehaha, 
For my dying Minnehaha!" 
Through the far-resounding forest, 
Through the forest vast and vacant 
Rang that cry of desolation, 
But there came no other answer 
Than the echo of his crying, 
Than the echo of the woodlands, 
"Minnehaha/ Minnehaha \" 

This must be made like an echo. Make it on same pitch as when 
given by Hiawatha and very softly, — prolong the closing vowels. 

In the wigwam with Nokomis, 

With those gloomy guests, that watched her, 

With the Famine and the Fever, 

She was lying, the Beloved, 

She, the dying Minnehaha. 

"Hark!" she said; "I hear a rushing. 

Hear a roaring and a rushing, 

Hear the Falls of Minnehaha 

Calling to me from a distance!" 

"No, my child!" said old Nokomis, 

" 'Tis the night-wind in the pine-trees !" 

"Look !" she said ; "I see my father 

Standing lonely at his doorway, 

Beckoning to me from his wigwam 

In the land of the Dacotahs !" 

"No, my child!" said old Nokomis, 

" 'Tis the smoke, that waves and beckons!" 

"Ah!" said she, "the eyes of Pauguk 
Glare upon me in the darkness, 
I can feel his icy fingers 
Clasping mine amid the darkness ! 
Hiawatha ! Hiawatha !" 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 75 

And the desolate Hiawatha. 
Far away amid the forest, 
Miles away among the mountains. 
Heard that sudden cry of anguish. 
Heard the voice of Minnehaha 
Calling to him in the darkness. 
"Hiawatha ! Hiawatha !" 

Over snow-fields waste and pathless, 
Under snow-encumbered branches. 
Homeward hurried Hiawatha, 
Empty-handed, heavy-hearted. 
Heard Xokomis moaning, wailing : 
"Wahonowin! Wahonowin ! 
Would that I had perished for you. 
Would that I were dead as you are ! 
Wahonowin ! Wahonowin !" 
And he rushed into the wigwam, 
Saw the old Nokomis slowly 
Rocking to and fro and moaning. 
Saw his lovely Minnehaha 
Lying dead and cold before him. 
And his bursting heart within him 
Uttered such a cry of anguish. 
That the forest moaned and shuddered. 
That the very stars in heaven 
Shook and trembled with his anguish. 

Then he sat down, still and speechless. 
On the bed of Minnehaha, 
At the feet of Laughing Water. 
At those willing feet, that never 
More would lightly run to meet him. 
Xever more would lightly follow. 
With both hands his face he covered. 
Seven long days and nights he sat there. 
As if in a swoon he sat there, 
Speechless, motionless, unconscious 
Of the davlight or the darkness. 



76 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Then they buried Minnehaha ; 
In the snow a grave they made her, 
In the forest deep and darksome, 
Underneath the moaning hemlocks; 
Clothed her in her richest garments, 
Wrapped her in her robes of ermine, 
Covered her with snow, like ermine, 
Thus they buried Minnehaha. 
And at night a fire was lighted, 
On her grave four times was kindled, 
For her soul upon its journey 
To the Islands of the Blessed. 
From his doorway Hiawatha 
Saw it burning in the forest, 
Lighting up the gloomy hemlocks. 

''Farewell !" said he, "Minnehaha ! 
Farewell, O my Laughing Water! 
All my heart is buried with you, 
All my thoughts go onward with you ! 
Come not back again to labor, 
Come not back again to suffer, 
Where the Famine and the Fever- 
Wear the heart and waste the body. 
Soon my task will be completed, 
Soon your footsteps I shall follow 
To the Islands of the Blessed, 
To the Kingdom of Ponemah, 



To the Land of the Hereafter 



!» 



-H. W. Longfellow. 



* 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 11 



SHUT-EYE TOWN 

There's a little city of beautiful dreams where we go when the sand- 
man comes. It is not far away, this city, but to go to it, you must 
shut your eyes and fold your hands and keep very still. When the 
day's work is all done and the big outside world grows silent and the 
wind sings a lullaby, then off we go to Shut-Eye Town. It is best to 
go with a mother's kiss and a sweet "good-night.*' 

When the bees came in from their work to rest, 
And the shadows crept o'er the darkening west ; 
When the swallows slept 'neath the sloping eves, 
And the night-dew moistened the drooping leaves ; 
When the stars came out and the sun went down, 
Then our baby started for Shut-Eye Town. 

When the bees went back to their honeyed feast, 
And the shadows fled from the brightening east ; 
When the swallows chirped in the orchard trees, 
And the leaves were swayed by the morning breeze ; 
When the sun came up and the stars went down, — 
Our baby came back from Shut-Eye Town. 

But she smiled at the close of a sun-lit day, 

And softly and sweetly she slipped away, 

And that city old must be wondrously fair, 

For our darling child still lingers there, 

And our eyes are dim and our hearts bowed down. 

For baby still journevs in Shut-Eye Town. 



PICTURES OF MEMORY 

Each head is a workshop and has many busy workmen. Two bright 
workers are always seeing things and taking pictures. One wonderful 
workman is busy making images and stowing them away for future 
use. Then Memory brings tbem out and shows them to us again and 
again. So. each one has an Art Gallery and each day we all hang 
upon its walls pictures of life. 

Among — the beautiful pictures — 

That hang — on Memory's wall, 
Is one — of a dim old forest. 

That seemeth best of all ; 
Not — for its gnarled oaks — older*. 

Dark — with the mistletoe; 



78 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Not — for the violets — golden- — 

That sprinkle the vale — below ; 
Not — for the milk-white lilies — 

That lean from the fragrant hedge, 
Coquetting — all day — with the sunbeams. 

And stealing their golden edge; 
Not — for the vines — on the upland, 

Where the bright — red berries rest, 
Nor the pinks, nor the pale sweet cowslip. 

It seemeth— to me — the best. 

I once — had a little brother. 

With eyes — that were dark and deep — 
In the lap of that old, dim forest 

He lieth — in peace — asleep: 
Light — as the down of the thistle, 

Free — as the winds that blow, 
We roved there — the beautiful summers. 

The summers of long ago; 
But — his feet— on the hills — greaw weary. 

And, one of the autumn eves, 
I made — for my little brother — 

A bed — of the yellow leaves. 

Sweetly — his pale arms folded 

My neck, — in a meek embrace, 
As the light of immortal beauty — 

Silently — covered his face: 
And — when the arrows of sunset — 

Lodged — in the tree-tops bright, 
He fell, in his saint-like beauty, 

Asleep — by the gates of light. 
Therefore, of all the pictures 

That hang on Memory's wall. 
This one of the dim old forest 

Seemeth the best of all. 

— Alice Gary. 



AXD GRADED RECITATIONS 



THE MILLER OF THE DEE 

Health is the greatest wealth. Contentment and happiness are worth 
far more than gold and silver. To keep well and be busy, doing help- 
ful things, and every day doing our work better.— this is the joy of 
living. To laugh and sing while we work and turn our work to play, 
— this is the greatest freedom. Some people write poems, some re-ad 
them, but the best thing of all is to live a poem. — work and be happy. 

There dwelt a Miller, hale and bold. 

Beside the river Dee : 
He worked and sang from morn till night — 

Xo lark more blithe than he ; 
And this the burden of his song 

Forever used to be : 
"I envy nobody, no, not I — 

And nobody envies me." 

"Thon'rt wrong, my friend." said good King Hal. 

"As wrong as wrong can be: 
For could my heart be light as thine. 

I*d gladly change with thee. 
And tell me. now. what makes thee sing. 

With voice so loud and free. 
While I am sad. though I'm a king. 
Beside the river Dee?" 

The miller smiled and doffed his Lap, 

"I earn my bread" quoth he: 
"I love my wife. I love my friend. 

I love my children three : 
I owe no man I cannot pay. 

I thank the river Dee. 
That turns the mill that grinds the corn 

Thar feeds my babes and me." 

"Good friend." quoth Hal. and sighed the while, 
•'Farewell, and happy be : 
But say no more, if thotrdst be true. 

That no one envies thee : 
Thy mealy cap is worth my crown. 

They mill my kingdom's fee: 
Such men as thou are England's boast. 
O. Miller of the Dee!"" 

— Chas. MacTcay. 



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RECITATIONS FOR HIGH SCHOOL 



HYMN TO THE VANQUISHED 
A. M. Moore. 

Songs of victory, songs of triumph are most common. Real victory 
often comes from seeming defeat. All reforms begin in the brain ot 
one man or one woman. 

The reformer is always in the minority of numbers, but in the great 
majority of truth. 

Phrase the poem carefully. All negative phrases and ideas must 
have rising inflections. All sad, sympathetic ideas are uttered with 
descending pitches and undertones. Do not allow voice to weaken be- 
cause you use tones lower in pitch. 

I sing not the song of the victors 

Who wear the proud laurels of Fame, 
I join not the jubilant chorus 

Exalting to heaven their name ! 
But, I chant the low hymn of the conquered 

Who fell in the battle of Life, — 
The weary, the worsted, the vanquished, 

Who sank overwhelmed in the strife. 
A song for the resolute remnant 

Who acted their desperate parts. 
Who fought and who failed, failed in all things, — 

Except in the faith of their hearts. 

Their Youth bore no flower on its branches, 

Their hopes burned to ashes away ; 
The glory they sought to enkindle 

Faded out with the dying of day. 
Their work fell in ruins about them 

And left them unpitied, unknown. 
With Death swooping down on their failure 

And all but their Faith overthrown! 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 81 

Speak, History! Who are thy heroes? 

Unroll thy long annals and say. 
Are they those who the world called victors, 

Who won the applause of a day ; 
Who wore the imperial purple, 

Who shouted the conqueror's cry; 
Or, the valiant whom kings could not silence 

And armies could not terrify? 
Speak, History! Who are Life's heroes? 

Elijah? Or, Ahab, perchance? 
John the Baptist in prison? 

Or, Herod, o'ercome with the wine and the dance? 
Is it Felix, the tremulous jailer? 

Or, Paul, with the manacles, which? 
Is it Nero, carousing and fiddling? 

Or, yon martyr, now flaming with pitch? 
O History, speak, and deliver 

The thousands by error enticed ! 
Not the laurel-crowned ! No, but the thorn-crowned ; 

Not Pilate, not Nero, but Clmst. 



JOHN MAYNARD 

This is a great poem. The world loves courage ! Soldiers of Life. 
Soldiers of War, — all are worthy of applause. It requires higher cour- 
age to guide a burning ship to shore than to march under waving 
banners and floating flags. 

We must see Lake Erie and the ship and the sinking, laughing peo- 
ple. Then as the danger comes on, we must watch the people, and 
particularly the Captain and John Maynard. The Captain's voice 
must ring sharp and clear and John Maynard's answers must be 
firm and show his courage. His tones will not be loud, but muffled. 
as if stifling with smoke. We must show his physical exertions and 
his suffering by our tones. We should make long pauses before and 
after each call of the Captain and Maynard's answers. 

'Twas on Lake Erie's broad expanse. 

One bright midsummer day, 
The gallant steamer Ocean Queen 

Swept proudly on her way. 
Bright faces clustered on the deck, 

Or, leaning o'er the side, 
Watched carelessly the feathery foam 

That flecked the rippling tide. 



82 ELOCUTIONARY READER 



Ah, who beneath that cloudless sky, 

That smiling bends serene, 
Could dream that danger, awful, vast, 

Impended o'er the scene — 
Could dream, that ere an hour had sped, 

That frame of sturdy oak 
Would sink beneath the lake's blue waves, 

Blackened with fire and smoke? 

A seaman sought the captain's side, 

A moment whispered low : 
The captain's swarthy face grew pale; 

He hurried doAvn below. 
Alas, too late; Though quick, and sharp, 

And clear, his orders came, 
No human efforts could avail 

To quench th' insidious flame. 



The bad news quickly reached the deck, 

It sped from lip to lip, 
And ghastly faces everywhere 

Looked from the doomed ship. 
kk Is there no hope — no chance of life?" 

A hundred lips implore. 
"But one/' the captain made reply — 

"To run the ship on shore." 



A sailor whose heroic soul 

That hour should yet reveal, 
By name John Maynard, Eastern born, 

Stood calmly at the wheel. 
"Head her south-east!" the captain shouts 

Above the smothered roar ; 
"Head her south-east without delay ! 

Make for the nearest shore !" 

No terror pales the helsman's cheek, 

Or clouds his dauntless eye, 
As in a sailor's measured tone 

His voice responds, "Ay, ay!" 



AXD GRADED RECITATIONS 83 

Three hundred souls, the steamers freight. 

Crowd forward, wild with fear ; 
While at the stern the dreadful flames 

Above the deck appear. 

John Maynard watched the nearing flames. 

But still, with steady hand, 
He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly 

He steered the ship to oland. 
"John Maynard, can you still hold out?" 

He heard the captain cry; 
A voice from out the stifling smoke 

Faintly responds, "Ay, ay!" 

"John Maynard," with an anxious voice. 

The captain cries once more, 
"Stand by the wheel five minutes yet, 

And we will reach the shore." 
Through flames and smoke that dauntless heart 

Responded firmly still, 
Unawed, though face to face with death, 

"With God's good help. I will !" 

The flames approach with giant stride; 

They scorch his hands and brow; ; 
One arm disabled seeks his side; 

Ah, he is conquered now ! 
But no ; his teeth are firmly set ; 

He crushes down his pain; ; 
His knee upon the stanchion pressed. 

He guides the ship again. 

One moment yet, one moment yet ! 

Brave heart thy task is o'er; 
The pebbles grate beneath the keel, 

The steamer touches shore. 
Three hundred grateful voices rise 

In praise to God, that He 
Hath saved them from the fearful fire. 

And from th' ingulfing sea. 



84 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

But where is he, that helsman bold? 

The captain saw him reel — 
His nerveless hands released their task. 

He sank beside the wheel. 
The wave received his lifeless corpse, 

Blackened with smoke and fire. 
God rest him! Never hero had 

A nobler funeral pyre. 



OUR COUNTRY'S CALL 

This poeru was written by William Cullen Bryant, the "good, grey 
-poet." It is a cal 1 to battle and the voice must be strong and ringing 
in its delivery- Keep the body firm when you wish the voice to be 
strong. Make the pauses sharp and long. Read it as if to the beating 
of the battle-drum when it is calling the soldiers to "fall in" line. 
When we give commands, the inflections must be lowered for each 
phrase. 

Be sure a pause is made for each simile. The last stanza should be 
the strongest as it is the final appeal. The poem would be a battle 
call for any people in any and. in any age. A great poem is not for 
one time, one people, or one country. It has in it a call to the univer- 
sal heart of Humanity. 



Lay down the ax ; fling by the spade ; 

Leave in its track the toiling plow ; 
The rifle and the bayonet-blade 

For arms like yours were fitter now ; 
And let the hands that ply the pen 

Quit the light task, and learn to wield 
The horseman's crooked brand, and rein 

The charger on the battle-field. 

Our country calls ; away ! away ! 

To where the bloodstream blots the green. 
Strike to defend the gentlest sway 

That Time in all his course has seen. 
See, from a thousand coverts — see. 

Spring the armed foes that haunt her track ; 
They rush to smite her down, and we 

Must beat the banded traitors back. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 85 

And ye, who breast the mountain-storm 

By grassy steep or highland lake, 
Come, for the land ye love, to form 

A bulwark that no foe can break. 
Stand, like your own gray cliffs that mock 

The whirlwind, stand in her defense; 
The blast as soon shall move the rock 

As rushing squadrons bear ye thence. 

And ye, whose homes are by her grand. 

Swift rivers, rising far away, 
Come from the dep+h of her green land, 

As mighty in your march as they ; 
As terrible as when the rains 

Have swelled them over bank and bourne, 
With sudden floods to drown the plains 

And sweep along the woods uptorn. 

And ye, who throng, beside the deep, 

Her ports and hamlets of the strand, 
In number like the waves that leap 

On his long-murmuring marge of sand — 
Come, like that deep, when o'er his brim 

He rises, all his floods to pour, 
And flings the proudest barks that swim, 

A helpless wreck, against the shore ! 

Few, few were they whose swords of old 

Won the fair land in which we dwell ; 
But we are many, we who hold 

The grim resolve to guard it well. 
Strike, for that broad and goodly land, 

Blow after blow, till men shall see 
That Might and Right move hand in hand, 

And glorious must their triumph be ! 



86 ELOCUTIONARY READER 



THE REVOLXTTIONARY RISING 

Thomas Buchanan Read was a sculptor, painter, and poet. He pub- 
lished several volumes of poems, but is proobably most widely known 
as the author of "Sheridan's Ride," "Drifting," and other exquisite 
poems. 

This poem calls for vigor of voice and action. Stanzas 2, 3 and 4 
should have beautiful tones and modulations. Then, great firmness 
should be given when the text is spoken and it should increase until 
Berkley speaks. We can imagine Berkley an old man but very de- 
termined and shocked by what he deems sacrilege. The pastor's 
reply must be strong, defiant and his call must ring like a challenge. 
We must make the bell tones long and swelling, each succeeding one 
stronger until the last. The "I" of the last line should be giveu 
several times, in different pitches. This will make it si em as if many 
people shouted it instead of one. 

Out of the North the wild news came, 
Far flashing on its wings of flame, 
Swift as the boreal light which flies 
At midnight through the startled skies. 
And there was tumult in the air, 

The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat. 
And through the wide land everywhere 

The answering tread of hurrying feet, 
While the first oath of Freedom's gun 
Came on the blast from Lexington; 
And Concord roused, no longer tame. 
Forgot her old baptismal name, 
Made bare her patriot arm of power, 
And swelled the discord of the hour. 

Within its shade of elm and oak 

The church of Berkley Manor stood ; 

There Sunday found the rural folk, 

And some esteemed of gentle blood, 
In vain their feet with loitering tread 

Passed mid the graves where rank is naught; 

All could not read the lesson taught 
In that republic of the dead. 

How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk, 

The vale with peace and sunshine full, 
Where all the happy people walk, 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 87 

Decked in their homespun flax and wool ; 
Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom ; 

And every maid, with simple art, 

Wears on her breast, like her own heart, 
A bud whose depths are all perfume ; 

While every garment's gentle stir 

Is breathing rose and lavender. 

The pastor came: his snowy locks 

Hallowed his brow of thought and care ; 

And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks, 
He led into the house of prayer. 

Then soon he rose ; the prayer was strong ; 

The Psalm was warrior David's song; 

The text, a few short words of might — 

"The Lord of hosts shall arm the right !" 

He spoke of wrongs too long endured, 

Of sacred rights to be secured; 

Then from his patriot tongue of flame 

The startling words for Freedom came. 

The stirring sentences he spake 
Compelled the heart to glow or quake, 

And grasping in his nervous hand 

The imaginary battle-brand, 
In face of death he dared to fling- 
Defiance to a tyrant king. 

Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed 
In eloquence of attitude, 
Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher ; 
Then swept his kindling glance of fire 
From startled pew to breathless choir; 
When suddenly his mantle wide 
His hands impatient flung aside, 
And, lo ! he met their wondering eyes 
Complete in all a warrior's guise. 

A moment there was awful pause — 
When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor, cease! 
God's temple is the house of peace !" 



88 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

The other shouted, "Nay, not so, 
When God is with our righteous cause ; 
His holiest places then are ours, 
His temples are our forts and towers 

That frown upon the tyrant foe ; 
In this, the dawn of Freedom's day, 
There is a time to fight and pray !" 

And now, before the open door — 

The warrior priest had ordered so — 
The enlisting trumpet's sudden roar 
Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er, 

Its long reverberating blow, 
So loud and clear, it seemed the ear 
Of dusty death must wake and hear. 

And there the startling drum and fife 
Fired the living with fiercer life ; 
While overhead, with wild increase, 
Forgetting its ancient toll of peace, 

The great bell swung as ne'er before. 
It seemed as it would never cease; 
And every word its ardor flung 
From off its jubilant iron tongue 

Was, "War! War/ WAR!" 

"Who dares?" — this was the patriot's cry, 
As striding from the desk he came — 
"Come out with me, in Freedom's name. 
For her to live, for her to die?" 
A hundred hands flung up reply, 
A hundred voices answered, "1"! 



SONG OF THE MYSTIC 

Make each letter distinct, clear, each word musical. Draw the sound 
to yon — make it subjective. 

I walk — down the Valley — of Silence — 

Down the dim — voiceless valley — alone! 
And — T hear not — the fall — of a footstep— 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 89 

Around me, save God's — and my own ; 

And — the hush of my heart — is as holy — 

As hovers — where angels have flown ! 

Long ago — was I weary — of voices — 
Whose music — my heart could not win ; 

Long ago — was I weary of noises — 
That fretted my soul — with their din ; 

Long ago — was I weary of places — 

Where I met — but the human — and sin. 

I walked in the world — with the worldly ; 

I craved — what the world never gave ; 
And — I said: "In the world — each Ideal, 

That shines — like a star on life's wave, — 
Is wrecked — on the shores of the Real,— 

And sleeps — like a dream — in a grave.'' 

Mark phrases and emphasis. Make pauses very long. 

Do you ask what I find in the Valley ? 

'f is my Trysting Place Avith the Divine. 
And I fell at the feet of the Holy, 

And above me a voice said : u Be mine.." 
And there arose from the depths of my spirit 

An echo — "My heart shall be thine.'' 



Do you ask how I live in the Valley? 

I weep — and I dream — and I pray. 
But my tears are as sweet as the dewdrops 

That fall on the roses in May ; 
And my prayer like a perfume from Cencers, 

Ascendeth to God night and day. 

But far on the deep there are billows 
That never shall break on the beach ; 

And I have heard songs in the Silence, 
That never shall float into speech ; 

And I have had dreams in the Valley, 
Too lofty for language to reach. 



90 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

And I have seen Thoughts in the Valley — 
Ah ! me, how my spirit was stirred ! 

And they wear holy veils on their faces, 
Their footsteps can scarcely be heard ; 

They pass through the Valley like Virgins, 
Too pure for the touch of a word ! 

Do you ask me the place of the Valley, 
Ye hearts that are harrowed by Care? 

It lieth afar between mountains, 
And God and His angels are there; 

And one is the dark mount of Sorrow, 
And one the bright mountain of Prayer! 

— Father Ryan. 

THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTANDS 
By T. Appleton 

Somewhere — she waits — to make you win, 
Your soul — in her firm — white hands, — 

Somewhere — the gods have made for you 
The-woman-who-understands. 

As the tide went out — she found him 

Lashed— to a spar of despair — 
The wreck of his ship — around him. 

The wreck of his dreams — in the air — 
Found him, and loved him, and gathered 

The soul of him — to her heart ; 
The soul — that sailed an uncharted sea — 

The soul — that sought to win — and be free — 
The soul — of which she was part ; 

And — there — in the dusk she cried to the man, 
"Win your battle — you can — you can." 

Eelping and loving and guiding — 

Urging when that was best — 
Molding her fears in hiding 
— Dee]> in her quiet breast — 
This is the woman who kept him 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 91 

True to his standards lost — 
When tossed in the storm and stress and strife, 
He thought himself through with the game of life 

And ready to pay the cost — 
Watching and guarding — whispering still, 
"Win — you can — and I know you will." 

This is the story of ages — 

This is the woman's way — 
Wiser than seers or sages, 

Lifting us day by day — 
Facing all things with a courage 

Nothing can daunt or dim ; 
Treading life's path wherever it leads — 
Lined with fiowers or choked with weeds, 

But ever with him — with him, 
Guardian, comrade, and golden spur, 
The men who win are helped by her. 

Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, 
Your soul in her strong white hands ; 

Thank well the gods when she comes to you, 
The woman who understands. 



EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE 

A fire-mist and a planet, 

A crystal and a cell, 
A jelly-fish and a saurian, 

And a cave where the cave-men dwell ; 
Then a sense of law and duty, 

A face turned from the clod — 
Some call it Evolution, 

And others call it God. 

A haze in the far horizon, 

The infinite tender sky, 
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields, 

And the wild geese sailing high — 



92 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

And all over upland and lowland, 
The sign of the golden rod — 

Some of us call it Autumn. 
And others call it God. 



Like tides on a crescent sea-beach 

When the moon is new and thin. 
Into our hearts, high yearnings 

Come welling and singing in — 
Come from the mystic ocean, 

Whose rim no foot has trod — 
Some of us call it longing, 

And others call it God. 

A picket frozen on duty, 

A mother starved for her brood, 
Socrates drinking the hemlock, 

And Jesus on the rood ; 
And millions who humble and nameless, 

The straight, hard pathway trod — 
Some call it Consecration, 

And others call it God. 



IN MEMORIAM 
By Byron W. King. 

And what can ye say of the Shadow, 

Ye watchers who wait and who weep? 
And what can ye say of the Silence? 

And what of your comrades who sleep? 
And what of white hands that are clasping 

Dead flowers you placed on each breast? 
Of eyes that met yours but now ashen, 

Of brows where Death's seal is impressed? 

Ay, what can ye say for the Voiceless, 
Whose pale lips are sealed with the dust? 

What, what can ye say for your Brothers, 
For their loyalty, love and their trust? 



AXD GRADED RECITATIONS 93 

Let us say : They were Brother Pilgrims, 

Who trod with us the World's height, 
But they passed down into the Valley 

And under the deep-shrouding night. 
Let us say : They were Warrior Comrades, 

Whose hearts throbbed the drum beats of life, 
But they heard the Great Captain's recalling, 

And they ceased from the biyouac and strife. 

Let us say : They were mariners, sailing 

With us on Life's ocean, storm-pressed, 
But, they saw the great Pilot's hand beckon 

And He showed them the Haven of Best. 
Let us say : They were friends and companions 

At this Inn of the Old Grey Earth, 
Where we supped at our Great Father's table, 

All children, with revel and mirth. 

Say, too, that they were our brothers, 

Brave, fearless, and valiant and strong ; 
Warm-hearted to share all our sorrows, 

High-courageous to right every wrong! 
Say, too, that no darkness of shadows, 

Xo lengthening of time with the years 
Shall hide or shall dim our warm tribute 

Of love, of remembrance, of tears. 

We cherish them ever, we murmur 

Their names on our quivering lips, 
Their faces come forth from the Shadow, 

In our dreams ; an Apocalypse ! 
O Brothei*s of Silence and Shadow, 

O Sleepers with white lips so dumb, 
We wait but the call, soon to hear it, 

And down to your Mansions we come ! 

We wait for the call of the Captain 

To tell us the struggle shall cease, 
We wait for the pale, silent Pilot 

To guide to the Harbor of Peace ! 



94 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

Sleep on ! Oh, beloved ones, remembered 
And cherished with love and with tears 

Ye live; for Life's deeds are immortal, 
They pass not away with the years ! 



DRIFTING 
By T. B. Read. 

This is a dream poem. The voice must be smooth, sustained aud 
beautiful. We must prolong all open vowels and the tones must rise 
and fall like the waves of the sea. When we make pauses, the voice 
must not fall, but keep suspended and suggest the continuous sound 
of the waves. The words, meter, thought, are all beautiful,— the voice 
must be beautiful also. 

My soul to-day is far away, 
Sailing the Vesuvian Bay; 
My winged boat, a bird afloat, 
Swims round the purple peaks remote. 

Round purple peaks it sails, and seeks 
Blue inlets and their crystal creeks. 
Where high rocks throw through deeps below, 
A duplicated golden glow. 

Far, vague, and dim, the mountains swim; 
While on Vesuvius' misty brim. 
With outstretched hands, the gray smoke stands 
O'erlooking the volcanic lands. 

I heed not if my rippling skiff 
Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff; 
With dreamful eyes my spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise. 

Under the Avails, where swells and falls 
The bay's deep breast at intervals, 
At peace I lie, blown softly by, 
A cloud upon this liquid sky. 



AXD GRADED RECITATIONS 95 

The day so inild is heaven's own child. 
With earth and ocean reconciled; 
The airs I feel around me steal 
Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. 

Over the rail niv hand I trail 
Within the shadow of the sail : 
A joy intense, the cooling sense 
Glides down my drowsy indolence. 

With dreamful eyes my spirit lies 
Where summer sings and never dies ; 
O'erveiled with vines, she glows and shines 
Among her future oil and wines. 

Her children, hid the cliffs amid. 
Are gamboling with the gamboling kid. 
Or down the walls, with tipsy calls, 
Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls. 

The fisher's child, with tresses wild, 
Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled, 
With glowing lips, sings as she skips, 
Or gazes at the far-off ships. 

Yon dee]) bark goes where traffic blows, 
From lands of sun to lands of snows ; 
This happier one its course has run 
From lands of snow to lands of sun. 

O happy ship, to rise and dip. 
With the blue crystal at your lip ! 
O happy crew, my heart with you 
Sails, and sails, and sings anew! 

No more, no more the worldly shore 
Upbraids me with its loud uproar ! 
With dreamful eyes, my spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise! 



96 ELOCUTIONARY READER 



MISCELLANEOUS RECITATIONS 





MY LOST YOUTH 

Often I think of the beautiful town 

That is seated by the sea ; 
Often in thought go up and down 
The pleasant streets of that dear old town. 

And my youth comes back to me. 

And a verse of a Lapland song 

Is haunting my memory still : 

"A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, 

And catch, in sudden gleams, 
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas, 
And islands that were the Hesperides 

Of all ray boyish dreams. 

And the burden of that old song. 

It murmurs and whispers still : 

"A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

I remember the black wharves and the slips, 

And the sea-tides tossing free; 
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips. 
And the beauty and mystery of the ships. 

And the magic of the sea. 

And the voice of that wayward song 

Is singing and saying still : 

"A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And tin 1 thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 



I remember the bulwarks by the shore. 

And the fort upon the liill ; 
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar. 
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er. 

And the bugle, wild and shrill. 

And the music of that old song 

Thorns in my memory still : 

"A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

I remember the sea-fight far away. 

How it thundered o'er the tide! 
And the dead captains, as they lay 
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay. 

Where they in battle died. 

And the sound of that mournful song 

Goes through me with a thrill : 

"A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

There are things of whieh I may not speak: 

There ar^ dreams that cannot die: 
There are thoughts that make the strong heart w^ak. 
And bring: a pallor into the check. 

And a mist before the eye. 

And the words of that fatal song 

Come over me like a chill : 

'•A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

Strange to me now are the forms I meet 

When I visit the dear old town : 
But the native air is pure and sweet. 
And the trees that overshadow each well-known street. 

As they balance up and down. 

Are singing the beautiful song. 

Are sighing and whispering still : 

"A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 



98 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair, 

And with joy that is almost pain 
My heart goes back to wander there, 
And among the dreams of the days that were, 

I find my lost youth again. 

And the strange and beautiful song 

The groves are repeating it still : 

"A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

— Henry W. Lon (/fellow. 



WISHES AND WORK 

Some folks are so lazy! They just wish and wish and worry. — rny ! 
I know some people who talk just like these funny little chickens! 
They have little, wee. tiny voices: — "I wish I had my slate." "I wish 
I had my lesson." O. but they are funny! But we won't do that way. 
When the lesson is hard and teacher says it should be gotten, we will 
just get busy and keep busy until our work is done. People and 
chickens that whine aren't worth much. They just cry "cheep, cheep, 
cheep," all the time until everybody knows that's just what they are 
— cheap ! 



Said one little chick, with a funny little squirm, 

"I wish I could find a nice fat worm.-' 

Said another little chicken, Avith a quee^ little shrug, 

"I wish I could find a nice fat bug." 

Said a third little chick, with a strange little squeal, 

"I wish I could find some nice yelloAV meal." 

"Now, look here," said the mother, from the green 

garden patch, 
"If you want any breakfast, you just get up and 

scratch." 



JACK FROST 

Oh, how the wind blows! 

Oh, how the cold grows! 
Jack Frost will catch yon, 

Look out for your toes ! 
There he has just kissed you 
Kat chew ! ! 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 99 

A QUARREL IN THE OVEN 

This is a sad story, but it ends well, particularly for the hoy and 
the girl! It's bad to quarrel, very bad! There is no reason in the 
world why piecrust and gingerbread should not agree ! Let us show 
how they talked and scolded, and if ever we catch them disputing 
again, let us put down the quarrel just like the good little boy and 
the sweet little girl of the poem did. Let us make short work of the 
piecrust and say a sweet good-bye to the gingerbread ! 

Oh, the gingerbread boy and the piecrust girl, 

They had a quarrel one day ; 
Together they sat on the oven shelf, 
The piecrust fay and the gingerbread elf, 

And the quarrel commenced this way : 

Said the gingerbread boy to the piecrust girl : 

"I'll wager my new brown hat 
That I'm fatter than you and much more tanned, 
Though you're filled with pride till you cannot stand. 

But what is the good of that?" 

Then the piecrust girl turned her little nose up 

In a most provoking way. 
"Oh, maybe you're brown, but you're poor as can be; 
You do not know lard from a round green pea ! 

Is there aught that you do know, pray?" 

Oh, the gingerbread boy, he laughed loudly with scorn 

As he looked at the flaky piecrust. 
"Just watch how I rise in the world !" cried he ; 
"Just see how I'm bound to grow light !" cried she, 



While vou stav the color of rust." 



So the gingerbread boy and the piecrust girl 
They each of them swelled with pride. 

Till a noise was heard in a room without. 

A cry of delight, then a very glad shout, 
And the oven was opened wide. 

Then the gingerbread boy and the piecrust girl 

Could have screamed and wept with pain, 
For a rosy-cheeked lass and a small, bright-eyed lad 
Took a big bite of each — yes, this tale's very sad — 
So they'll now never quarrel again. 



MX) ELOCUTIONARY READER 

THE QUEEN'S GIFT 
Rose H. Thorpe 

Where English daisies blossom, 

And English robins sing, 
When all the land was fragrant 

Beneath the feet of Spring; 
Two little sisters wandered, 

Together, hand in hand, 
Along the dusty highway, 

Their bare feet soiled and tanned. 

'Twas not a childish sorrow 

That filled their eyes with tears ; 
Their little hearts were burdened 

With grief beyond their years. 
The bright-eyed daisies blossomed 

In valley and in glen, 
The robins sang their sweetest, 

Spring smiled — but not for them. 

Beneath the trees of Whitehall, 

Within their shadows brown, 
From out the royal palace 

The Queen came walking down. 
She saw the children standing, 

Together, side by side, 
And, gazing down with pity, 

She asked them why they cried. 

"Dear Lady," said the eldest, 

"My little sister Bess 
And I have come together 

A hundred miles, I guess; 
Sometimes the roads were dusty, 

And sometimes they were green ; 
We're very tired and hungry, — 

We want to see the Queen. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 101 

"For Mother's sick, dear Lady, 

She cries 'most all the day; 
We hear her telling Jesus, 

When she thinks we're out at play. 
She tells Him all about it, 

How when King James was King, 
We were so rich and happy, 

And had 'most everything. 

We had our own dear father, 

At home beside the Thames, 
But Father went to battle 

Because he loved King James. 
And — then, things were so different — 

I cannot tell you how, 
We have n't any father, 

Nor any nice things now. 

"Last night our mother told us 

They'd take our home away, 
And leave us without any, 

Because she couldn't pay. 
So then, we came together, 

Right through the meadows green, 
And prayed to God to help us, 

And take us to the Queen ; 

"Because Mama once told us 

That, many years ago, 
The Queen was James' little girl, 

And, Lady, if it was so, 
I know she'll let us keep it, — 

Our home beside the Thames, — 
For we have come to ask her, 

And Father loved King James. 

"And if we had to leave it, 

I'm sure Mama would die, 
For there's no place to go to,— 

No place but in the sky." 



102 ELOCUTIONARY READER 



Her simple story finished, 
She gazed up in surprise, 

To see the lovely lady 

With tear-drops in her eyes. 

And when the English robins 

Had sought each downey nest, 
And when the bright-eyed daisies. 

Dew-damp, had gone to rest, 
A carriage, such as never 

Had passed that way before. 
Set down two little children 

Beside the widow's door. 

They brought the weeping mother 

A package from the Queen, 
Her royal seal was on it, 

And folded in between 
A slip of paper, saying : 

"The daughter of King James 
Gives to these little children 

Their home beside the Thames." 



DAY DREAMS 

Margaret Johnson 

I measured myself by the wall in the garden ; 

The holly-hocks blossomed far over my head ; 
Oh, when I can touch, with the tips of my fingers. 

The highest green bud, with its lining of red, 

I shall not be a child any more, but a woman ; 

Dear holly-hock blossoms, how glad I shall be! 
I wish they would hurry, — the years that are coming. 

And bring the bright days that I dream of to me ! 

Oh. when I am grown, I shall know all my lessons, — 
There's so much to learn when one's only just ten ! 

T shall be very rich, very handsome and stately. 
And good, too, — of course, — 'twill be easier then. 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 103 

There'll be many to love me, and nothing to vex me, 
No knots in my sewing; no crusts to my bread. 

My days shall go by like the days in a story, — 
The sweetest and gladdest that ever was read. 

And then I shall come out some day to the garden, 
(For this little corner must always be mine;) 

I shall wear a white gown all embroidered in silver, 
That trails on the grass with a rustle and shine. 

And, meeting some child here at play in the sunshine, 
With gracious hands laid on her head I shall say, 

"I measured myself by these holly-hock blossoms 
When I was no taller than you, dear, one day !" 

She will smile in my face as I stoop low to kiss her, 
And — Hark ! they are calling me in to my tea ! 

O blossoms, I wish that the slow years would hurry ! 
When, when will they bring all I dream of to me? 



THE QUARREL 

Now, Willie Johnson, yesterday, 
He make a face at me an' say, 
He's glad he ain't a little girl, 
'Cause he don't have no hair to curl, 
An' his face don't have to be clean — 
An' so I tell him 'at he's mean, 
An' I make faces at him, too, 
An' stick my tongue out ! Yes, I do ! 

Nen me an' Willie Johnson fight. 
I know 'at girls must be polite 
An' never get. in fights — but he 
Got in the fight ; it wasn't me. 
An' so I tored off Willie's hat. 
An' give him just a little pat 
Up 'side his face, an' he just cry 
An' run home like he's 'fraid he'll die ! 



104 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

So pretty soon his mama, she 
Corned to our house — an' looked at me 
Nen goed right in where mama is — 
She tooked 'at tored-up hat o' his. 
An' Missus Johnson she just told 
My mama lots o' things, an' scold 
About me, too — 'cause I'm outside 
An' hear — the door is open wide. 

Nen Willie corned out wif his pup, 
An' say "Hullo !" So we maked up, 
Nen get to playin' an'mal show — 
His pup is a wild li'n, an' so, 
Wy, he's a-trainin' it, an' I'm 
Th' aujence mos' near all th' time. 

An' nen our mamas bofe corned out; 
His mama she still scold about 
Me slappin' him — an' they bofe say: 
"Hereafter keep your child away!" 

An' nen they see us playin' there, 
An' they bofe say: "Well, I declare!" 



THE LITTLE BROWN WREN 

A little brown wren, with a little white breast, 

Peeped from the door of her little round nest, 

And said to her husband : "The wind is from the west,"— 

"So I perceive," was the ready reply, 

"And there's not a cloud to be seen on the sky, — 

I think you had better go out by and by, 

And I will keep your eggs warm till you come back." 

"Oh, I thank you, my dear," said the little brown wren, 

With a chirp of delight, "you're the kindest of men, — 

Of course, I adore the dear little things, 

But sitting so steadily on eggs 

Brings a kind of stiffness to one's wings and legs. 

I would like to stretch them since you're so kind, 

But I only dislike to leave you behind." 

"O, that does not matter. 6, no, never mind." 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 105 

So the good little Mother flew off to the West, 

And the Father sat down in her place on the nest, 

Delighted to give his wee wifey a rest. 

It was rather slow work and he soon fell asleep, 

But he awoke with a jump, for he heard a faint "peep," 

And something beneath him began to creep- — 

Now, there was a crisis. "As sure as the sun," 

The father bird cries, " 'tis the hatching begun, 

And Mother is gadding, now what's to be done?" 

He fluttered about in his fidgety fear, 

And he laughed, and he cried, and he whimpered, 

"O dear, 
What would I not give if that woman was here !" 

His sense of relief can't be possibly guessed — 

Out of bird language it can't be expressed,— 

When he saw her at last flying back from the West. 

She, too, when she saw the wonderful sight — 

Three little baby birds hatching out all right — 

She could not contain her pride and delight ; 

But she hopped and she jumped, and she cuddled them 

well, 
And she loved them, how dearly I never can tell. 

This, you know, happened early in May— 
I chanced to look in the wren's nest today. 
And lo ! 'twas empty, they had flown away. 



"LITTLE BOY BLUE" 

The little toy dog is covered with dust. 

But sturdy and staunch he stands ; 
And the little toy soldier is red with rust, 

And his musket moulds in his hands. 
Time was when the little toy dog was new. 

And the soldier was passing fair. 
That was the time when our Little Boy Blue, 

Kissed them and put them there. 



106 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

"Now, don't you go till I come/' he said, 

"And don't you make any noise!" 
So toddling off to his trundle-bed, 

He dreamt of the pretty toys. 
But as he was dreaming, an angel song 

Awakened our Little Boy Blue ! 
Oh, the years are many — the years are long; 

But the little toy friends are true. 

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, 

Each in the same old place, 
Awaiting the touch of a little hand, 

The smile of a little face. 
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through, 

In the dust of that little chair, 
What has become of our Little Boy Blue 

Since he kissed them and put them there ? 

— Eugene Field. 



GRANDMA AT THE MASQUERADE 

Yes, Grandma went to the masquerade, 
The dear old lady, so prim and staid, 
Wouldn't you think she'd have been afraid 
To go? In her ancient dress and cap, 
With her long silk apron over her lap, 
And her bag! (Ha! ha!) You'd have thought she'd 
taken a nap 
As long as Rip Van Winkle's. 

But the children coaxed her, an easy task, 
For she'd heard so much of the grand bal masque, 
And she wearied them so with the questions she'd ask, 
That all agreed she'd better see 
For herself this wonderful mystery, 
How people from every land can be 
Brought together by magic. 

So they made her a mask to wear that night ; 
Though she owned, it shocked her sense of right 
To appear 'fore the world in such a plight; 



AND GRADED RECITATIONS 107 

And she thought her features were good and fair. 
For her age, as others who might be there, 
And if they did know her, why should she care? 
But the girls would have their way. 

At last the eventful evening came, 
And forth to the rendezvous went the dame, 
With feelings somewhat akin to shame. 
But her pride was flattered when a queen, 
With robes as regal as ever were seen, 
Bowed graciously. What could it mean, 
Her majesty's attention? 

Oh, proud of his post, with fiddle in hand, 
The jovial leader of the band 
"Attention!" calls, then gives command, 
"All gents take partners for a reel." 
How frolicsome the maskers feel, 
How careful lest the voice reveal 

What the masker's dress would hide. 

Now, so it chanced, and some there knew, 
That Grandma in her youth danced, too, 
And all "ye olden steps" she knew, 

And danced them well, with many an ari 
And when she heard the music sweet, 
She tried in vain to keep her seat, 
While eagerly her restless feet 

The merry dancing time would mark. 

A youth, supposing her some maid 
In mask disguised, the scheme to aid, 
Knelt at her feet with great parade. 
Her hand he seized and madly kissed, 
And smote his chest with tragic fist, 
"O dear! My sakes! what ails your chist?" 
Cried Grandma frantically. 



Then from her bag her "camphire" drew 
And peppermint and sweet flags flew. 
Until at last the youth came to, 



108 ELOCUTIONARY READER 

And thanked her with a grateful glance. 
Then blessing her for the aid she'd given, 
And for the zeal with which she'd striven 
His life to save, " 'Twould be bliss from heaven," 

He said, "with her to have a dance." 

Kind-hearted Grandma, 'most fourscore, 
Forgot she was old and danced as of yore. 
When the fiddler called her the best on the floor, 

She swept him a courtesy, deep and low ; 
But ever there came in her faded eyes 
A look of innocent surprise, 
When someone would whisper a surmise 

That "she was Miss So and So." 

But the merriest time, the best of all, 
Was when the master of the ball 
The order shouted, "Masks now fall !" 

'Mid jolly laughter, full of glee, 
Each curious masker rushed to see 
What maiden that old dame might be ! 
"My sakes, 'tain't nobody but me!" 

Said honest Grandma modestly. 



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